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ELEMENTS  of  MORALS: 


SPECIAL    APPLICATION    OF    THE    MORAL    LAW   TO    THE 

DUTIES    OF    THE    INDIVIDUAL    AND    OF 

SOCIETY    AND    THE    STATE. 


oi/v/-^ 


PAUL    JANET, 

LIEMBER   OF  THE   INSTITUTE,    OF   THE   ACADEMY  OF  MORAL  AND    POLITICAL 

SCIENCES,    AUTHOR   OF   THEORY   OF    MORALS,    HISTORY   OF    MORAL 

AND    POLITICAL    PHILOSOPHY,     FINAL   CAUSES,    ETC.,    ETC. 


TRAlSfSLATED       BY 


Mits.    C.    R.    CORSON, 


NEW  YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  •:.  CHICAGO 

AM  E  III  C  AX      BOOK      COMPANY 


FEOM  THE   PRESS  OP 

A.     S.     BARNES     &     CO. 


0 


Copynght,  ISSh.   bv  A.  S.  Barnes  &   OR 


ST 

0   (^  t>  vL— 


PREFACE 


rj^HE  Elements  de  Morale,  by  M.  Paul  Janet,  which  we 
--L  here  present  to  the  educational  world,  translated  from 
the  latest  edition,  is,  of  all  the  Avorks  of  that  distinguished 
moralist,  the  one  best  adapted  to  college  and  school  purposes. 
Its  scholarly  and  methodical  arrangement,  its  clear  and  direct 
reasonings,  its  felicitous  examples  and  illustrations,  drawn 
with  rare  impartiality  from  the  best  ancient  and  modern 
writers,  make  of  tliis  study  of  Ethics,  generally  so  unattrac- 
tive to  young  students,  one  singularly  invitmg.  It  is  a  sys- 
tem of  morals,  practical  rather  than  theoretical,  setting  forth 
man's  duties  and  the  application  thereto  of  the  moral  law. 
Starting  with  Preliminary  Notions,  M.  Janet  follows  these 
up  Avith  a  general  division  of  duties,  establishes  the  general 
principles  of  social  and  individual  morality,  and  chapter  by 
chapter  moves  from  duties  to  duties,  developing  each  in  all 
its  ramifications  Avith  unerring  clearness,  decision,  and  com- 
pleteness. Never  before,  perhaps,  Avas  this  difficidt  subject 
brought  to  the  comprehension  of  the  student  Avith  more  con- 
vincing certainty,  and,  at  the  same  time,  Avith  more  vivid 
and  impressive  illustrations. 

The  position  of  M.  Paul  Janet  is  that  of  the  religious 
moralist. 

"  He  supplies,"  says  a  writer  in  the  British  Quarterhj  Re- 
view,* in  a  notice  of  his  Theory  of  Morals,  "  the  very  element 

♦  No.  CLIX.— July  1,  18S4,  pp.  246,  247. 


IV 


PREFACE. 


to  which  Mr.  Sully  gives  so  Jittle  place.  He  cannot  conceive 
morals  without  religion.  Stated  shortly,  his  position  is,  that 
moral  good  is  founded  upon  a  natural  "and  essential  good,  and 
that  the  domains  of  good  and  of  duty  are  absolutely  equivalent. 
So  far  he  would  seem  to  follow  Kant ;  but  he  differs  from 
Kant  in  denying  that  there  are  indefinite  duties:  every  duty, 
he  holds,  is  definite  as  to  its  form;  but  it  is  either  definite  or 
indefinite  as  to  its  application.  As  religion  is  simply  belief  in 
the  Divine  goodness,  moraHty  must  by  necessity  lead  to  reli- 
gion, and  is  like  a  flowerless  plant  if  it  fail  to  do  so.  He  holds 
with  Kant  i\is.i  practical  faith  in  the  existence  of  God  is  the 
postulate  of  the  moral  law.  The  two  things  exist  or  fall  to- 
gether." 

This,  as  to  M.  Janet's  position  as  a  moralist;  as  to  his 
manner  of  treating  his  subject,  the  writer  adds  : 

"...  it  is  beyond  our  power  to  set  forth,  with  approach 
to  success,  the  admirable  series  of  reasonings  and  iUustrations 
by  which  his  positions  are  established  and  maintained." 

M.  Janet's  signal  merit  is  the  clearness  and  decision  which 
he  gives  to  the  main  points  of  his  subject,  keeping  them  ever 
distinctly  in  view,  and  strengthening  and  supplementing  them 
by  substantial  and  conclusive  facts,  drawn  from  the  best 
sources,  framing,  so  to  say,  his  idea  in  time-honored  and 
irrefutable  truths. 

The  law  of  duty  thus  made  clear  to  the  comprehension  of 
the  student,  cannot  fail  to  fix  his  attention  ;  and  between  fix- 
ing the  attention  and  striking  root,  the  difference  is  not  very 

great. 

^  C.  R.  C. 


PREFATOPvY    ]SrOT.E. 


M  JANET  is  now  too  well  know  amongst  us  to  need  any  intro- 
•  duction.  His  Causes  Finales,  whicli  still  remains  the  most 
comprehensive  and  philosophical  treatise  ever  written  on  the  subject  of 
ends  in  nature,  lias  become  a  naturalized  classic  in  the  English-speak- 
ing world,  thanks  to  the  excellent  translation  of  Mr.  Affleck.  And 
all  students  of  the  deeper  problems  of  ethics  know  the  value  of  his 
Morale,  which  has  recently  been  translated  under  the  supervision  of 
Ex- President  Porter  of  Yale. 

The  Elements  de  Morale,  of  which  Mrs.  Corson  here  offers  a  transla- 
tion, is  addressed  to  a  different  and  a  larger  audience.  While  the 
Morale  is  in  great  part  a  metaphysics  of  ethics,  and  thei'efore  abstract 
and  argumentative,  the  Elements  de  Morale,  avoiding  all  subtle  discus- 
sions and  abstruse  researches,  seeks,  as  M.  Janet  himself  tells  us,  "to 
present  such  of  the  clearest  and  most  useful  results  of  moral  science  as 
would  be  accessible  to  all  minds,  especially  those  of  the  young." 

This  seems  to .  me  a  highly  important  mission  at  all  times,  and 
especially  in  a  critical  and  skeptical  age  like  ours.  Whatever  difference 
of  opinion  there  maj'  be  about  the  ultimate  origin  and  nature  of  duty, 
there  can  be  none  about  the  desirability  of  having  men  think  of  duty. 
Reflection  may  dissolve  many  beliefs,  but,  as  the  ease  of  Darwin  hap- 
pily illustrates,  it  can  only  illumine  the  contents  of  the  moral  law  and 
strengthen  its  claims  upon'  ns.  To  stimulate  such  reflection  in  the 
minds  of  the  intelligent  reading  public,  is  the  object  of  this  work  of 
Janet's.     And  for  its  purpose  it  can  be  heartily  recommended. 

Mrs.  Corson,  who  is  equally  at  home  in  French  and  English,  has 
taken  every  pains  to  make  the  translation  accurate.  Her  work  may  be 
left  to  speak  for  itself.  I  need  only  add  that  a  few  unimportants  slips 
Avhicli  escaped  revision  in  the  first  edition  have  here  boon  removed. 

J.    G.    SCUURMAX. 

CoRKELL  University,  Dec.  1st,  1SS7. 


TABLE    OF    CO^TEl^TS. 


CHAPTEB 


PAGE 

I. — Preliminary  Notions 1 

II. — Division  of  Duties. — General  Principles  of  Social  Moral- 


ity 


33 


III. — Duties  of  Justice. — Duties  toward  Human  Life. 50 

IV. — Duties  Concerning  tlie  Property  of  Others 63 

V. — Duties  toward  the  Liberty  and  toward   the  Honor  of 
Others. — Justice,  Distributive  and  Remunerative. — 

Equity 93 

VI.— Duties  of  Charity  and  Self-Sacrifice Ill 

VII.— Duties  toward  the  State J^ 

VIII.— Professional  Duties 157 

IX.— International  Duties. — International    Law 182 

_  X.— Family  Duties 190 

XL— Duties  toward  One's  Self.— Duties  relative  to  the  Body.  223 

XII.— Duties  relative  to  External  Goods 344 

XIII.— Duties  relative  to  the  Intellect 260 

XIV.— Duties  relative  to  the  Will 281 

XV.— Picligious  Morality.— Religious  Rights  and  Duties 299 

XVI. — Moral  Medicine  and  Gymnastics 315 

Appendix  to  Chapter  VIII 341 


ELEMENTS  OF  MORALS. 


CHAPTEE    I. 

PEELIMIJSTART      XOTIOifS, 


SUMMARY. 

Starting  point  of  morals. — Xotions  of  common  sense. 

Object  and  divisions  of  morals. — Practical  morality  and  theoretical 
morality. 

Utility  of  morals. — Morals  are  useful:  1,  in  protecting  us  against 
the  sophisms  which  combat  them;  2,  in  iixing  principles  in  the 
mind ;  3,  in  teaching  us  to  reflect  upon  the  motives  of  our 
actions;  4,  in  preparing  us  for  the  diificulties  which  may  arise 
in  practice. 

Short  resume  of  theoretical  morality.— Pleasure  and  the  good. — 
Utility  and  virtue. — Duty. — Moral  conscience  and  moral  sentiment. 
— Liberty. — ilerit  and  demerit. — Moral  responsibility. — Mora]  sanc- 
tion. 

All  sciences  have  for  tlieir  starting-point  certain  elementary 
notions  wliich  are  f  iirnislied  tliem  by  the  common  experience  of 
mankind.  There  Avoukl  be  no  arithmetic  if  men  had  not,  as 
tlieir  wants  increased,  begun  by  counting  and  calculating,  and 
if  they  had  not  already  had  some  ideas  of  numbers,  unity, 
fractions,  etc. ;  neither  -would  there  be  any  geometry  if  they 
had  not  also  had  ideas  of  the  round,  the  square,  the  straight 
line.  The  same  is  true  of  morals.  They  presuppose  a  certaiii 
number  of  notions  existing  among  all  men,  at  least  to  some 
degree.     Good  and  evil,  duty  and  obligation,  conscience,  lib- 


2  ELEMENTS   OF   MOEALS. 

erty  and  responsibility,  virtue  and  vice,  merit  and  demerit, 
sanction,  punishment  and  reward,  are  notions  which  the 
philosopher  has  not  invented,  but  which  he  has  borrowed 
from  common  sense,  to  return  them  again  cleared  and  deep- 
ened. 

Let  us  begin,  then,  by  rapidly  enumerating  the  elementary 
and  common  notions,  the  analysis  and  elucidation  of  which  is 
the  object  of  moral  science,  and  explain  the  terms  employed 
to  express  them. 

I.  Starting  point  of   morals:    common   notions.— Aii 

men  distinguish  the  good  and  the  had,  good  actions  and  had 
actions.  For  instance,  to  love  one's  parents,  respect  other 
people's  property,  to  keep  one's  word,  etc.,  is  right;  to  harm 
those  who  have  done  us  no  harm,  to  deceive  and  he,  to  be 
ungrateful  towards  our  benefactors,  and  unfaithful  to  our 
friends,  etc.,  is  wrong.  _ 

To  do  right  is  ohligatory  on  every  one— that  is,  it  sliouid  be 
done;  wroSg,  on  the  contrary,  slioukl  be  avoided.  Duty  is 
that  law  by  which  we  are  held  to  do  the  right  and  avoid  the 
wrong.  It  is  also  called  the  moral  laio.  This  law,  like  aU 
laws,  commands,  forhids,  and  permits. 

He  Avho  acts  and  is  capable  of  doing  the  right  and  the 
wrong,  and  who  consequently  is  held  to  obey  the  moral  law 
is  called  a  moral  agent.  In  order  that  an  agent  may  be  held 
to  obey  a  law,  he  must  Icnow  it  and  understand  it.  In  morals, 
as  in  legislation,  no  one  is  supposed  to  he  ignorant  of  the  law. 
There  is^then,  in  every  man  a  certain  knowledge  of  the  law, 
that  is  to  say,  a  natural  discernment  of  the  right  and  the 
wrong.  This  discernment  is  what  is  called  conscience,  or 
sometimes  the  moral  sense.  -d  <-  •+  • 

Conscience  is  an  act  of  the  mind,  a  judgment.  But  it  is 
not  only  the  mind  that  is  made  aware  of  the  right  and  the 
wron-  •  it  is  the  heart.  Good  and  evil,  done  either  by  others 
or  by^ourselves,  awaken  in  us  emotions,  affections  of  diverse 
nature.  These  emotions  or  afifections  are  what  collectively 
constitute  the  moral  sentiment. 


PRELIMINARY    NOTIONS.  3 

It  does  not  suffice  that  a  man  know  and  distinguish  the 
good  and  the  evil,  and  experience  for  the  one  and  for  the 
other  different  sentiments ;  it  is  also  necessary,  in  order  to  be 
a  moral  agent,  that  he  be  capable  of  choosing  between  them ; 
he  cannot  be  commanded  to  do  what  he  cannot  do,  nor  can 
he  be  forbidden  to  do  what  he  cannot  help  doing.  This 
power  of  choosing  is  called  liberty,  ov  free  will. 

A  free  agent — one,  namely,  who  can  discern  between  the 
right  and  the  wrong — is  said  to  be  responsible  for  his  actions ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  can  answer  for  them,  give  an  account  of 
them,  suffer  their  consequences ;  he  is  then  their  real  came. 
His  actions  may  consequently  be  attributed  to  him,  put  to  his 
account ;  in  other  words,  imputed  to  him.  The  agent  is  re- 
sponsible, the  actions  are  imputahle. 

Human  actions,  we  have  said,  are  sometimes  good,  some- 
times bad.  These  two  qualifications  have  degrees  in  propor- 
tion to  the  importance  or  the  difficulty  of  the  action.  It  is 
thus  we  call  an  action  suitable,  estimable,  beautiful,  admirable, 
sublime,  etc.  On  the  other  hand,  a  bad  action  is  sometimes 
but  a  simple  mistake,  and  sometimes  a  crime.  It  is  cidpable, 
base,  abominable,  execrable,  etc. 

If  we  observe  in  an  agent  the  habit  of  good  actions,  a  con- 
stant tendency  to  conform  to  the  law  of  duty,  this  habit  or 
constant  tendency  is  called  virtue,  and  the  contrary  tendency 
^  called  vice. 

Whilst  man  feels  himself  bound  by  his  conscience  to  seek 
the  right,  he  is  impelled  by  his  nature  to  seek  pleasure. 
When  he  enjoys  pleasure  without  any  admixture  of  pain,  he 
is  happy ;  and  the  highest  degree  of  possible  pleasure  with 
the  least  degree  of  possible  pain  is  happiness.  Now,  experience 
shows  that  happiness  is  not  always  in  harmony  with  virtue, 
and  that  pleasure  does  not  necessarily  accompany  right 
doing. 

And  yet  we  find  such  a  separation  unjust;  and  we  believe 
in  a  natural  and  legitimate  connection  Ixitwcen  pleasure  and 
right,  pain  and  wrong.       Pleasure,  considered  as  the  conse- 


4  ELEMENTS  OF  MOEALS. 

quence  of  well-doing,  is  called  recompense  ;  and  pain,  consid- 
ered as  the  legitimate  consequence  of  evil,  is  called  punish- 

UlBTlt, 

When  a  man  has  done  well  he  thinks,  and  all  other  men 
think,  that  he  has  a  right  to  a  recompense.  When  he  has 
done  m  they  think  the  contrary,  and  he  himself  thinks  also 
that  he  must  atone  for  his  wrong-doing  by  a  chastisement. 
This  principle,  by  virtue  of  which  we  declare  a  moral  agent 
deserving  of  happiness  or  unhappiness  according  to  his  good 
or  bad  actions,  is  called  the  principle  of  merit  and  demerit. 

The  sum  total  of  the  rewards  and  punishments  attached  to 
the  execution  or  violation  of  a  law  is  called  sanction;  the 
sanction  of  the  moral  law  will  then  be  called  7noral  sanc- 
tion. 

All  law  presupposes  a  legislator.  The  moral  law  will  pre- 
suppose, then,  a  moral  legislator,  and  morality  consequently 
raises  us  to  God.  All  human  or  eartlily  sanction  being  shown 
by  observation  to  be  insufficient,  the  moral  law  calls  for  a  re- 
ligious sanction.  It  is  thus  that  morality  conducts  us  to  the 
immortality  of  the  soul. 

If  we  go  back  upon  the  whole  of  the  ideas  we  have  just 
briefly  expressed,  we  shall  see  that  at  each  of  the  steps  we 
have  taken  there  are  always  two  contraries  opposed  the  one 
to  the  other:  good  and  evil,  command  and  proMhition,  virtue 
and  vice,  merit  and  demerit,  pleasure  and  pain,  reward  and 
2)nnishment. 

Human  life  presents  itself,  then,  under  two  aspects.  Man 
can  choose  between  the  two.  This  power  is  liberty.  This 
choice  is  difficult  and  laborious ;  it  exacts  from  us  incessant 
effi^rts.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  life  is  said  to  be  a  trial, 
and  is  often  represented  as  a  combat.  It  should  therefore 
not  be  represented  as  a  play,  but  rather  as  a  manly  and 
valiant  effort.     Struggle  is  its  condition,  peace  its  prize. 

Such  are  the  fundamental  ideas  morality  has  for  its  object, 
and  of  which  it  seeks,  at  the  same  time,  both  the  principles 
and  the  applications. 


PRELIMINARY  NOTIONS.  5 

2.  What  is  morality  ?  the  object  of  morality. — Moral- 
ity may  be  considered  as  a  science  or  as  an  art. 

By  science  we  understand  a  totality  of  truths  connected 
with  each  other  concerning  one  and  the  same  object.  Science 
has  for  its  object  proper,  knowledge. 

By  art  we  understand  a  totality  of  rules  or  precepts  for 
directing  activity  towards  a  definite  end ;  art  has  for  its 
object  proper,  action. 

Science  is  theoretical  or  speculative;  art  h  practical. 

Morality  is  a  science  inasmuch  as  it  seeks  to  know  and 
demonstrate  the  principles  and  conditions  of  morality ;  it  is 
an  art  inasmuch  as  it  shows  and  prescribes  to  us  its  applica- 
tions. 

As  science,  morality  may  be  defined :  science  of  good  or 
science  of  duty. 

As  art,  morality  may  be  defined :  the  art  of  right  living  or 
the  art  of  right  acting. 

3.  Division  of  morality. — Morality  is  divided  into  two 
parts  :  in  one  it  studies  principles,  in  the  other,  applications  ; 
in  the  one,  didij ;  in  the  other,  didies. 

Hence  a  theoretical  morality  and  a  jn-actical  morality.  The 
first  may  also  be  called  genercd  morality,  and  the  second  par- 
ticular morality,  because  the  first  has  for  its  object  the  study 
of  the  common  and  general  character  of  all  our  duties,  and 
the  other  especially  that  of  the  particular  duties,  which  vary 
according  to  objects  and  circumstances.  It  is  in  the  first  that 
morality  has  especially  the  character  of  science,  and  in  the 
second,  the  character  of  art. 

4.  Utility  of  morality. — The  utility  of  moral  science  has 
been  disputed.  The  ancients  questioned  whether  virtue  could 
be  taught.  It  may  also  be  asked  whether  it  should  be  taught. 
Morality,  it  is  said,  depends  much  more  upon  the  heart  than 
upon  the  reasoning  faculties.  It  is  rather  by  education,  ex- 
ample, habit,  religion,  sentiment,  than  through  theories,  that 
men  become  habituated  to  virtue.  If  this  were  so,  moral 
science  would  be  of  no  use. 


ELEMENTS   OF  MOEALS. 


However,  though  it  may  be  true  that  for  happiness  noth 
ing  can  take  the  place  of  practice,  it  does  not  follow  that  re- 
flection and  study  may  not  very  efficaciously  contribute 
toward  it,  and  for  the  following  reasons  : 

1  It  often  happens  that  evil  has  its  origin  in  the  sophisms 
of  the  mind,  sophisms  ever  at  the  service  of  the  passions.  It 
is  therefore  necessary  to  ward  off  or  prevent  these  sopliisms 
by  a  thorough  discussion  of  principles. 

2  A  careful  study  of  the  principles  of  morality  causes 
them  to  penetrate  deeper  into  the  soul  and  gives  them  there 

greater  hxity.  _ 

3  Morality  consists  not  only  in  the  actions  themselves,  but 
especially  in  the  motives  of  our  actions.  An  outward  moral- 
ity wholly  of  habit  and  imitation,  is  not  yet  the  true  morality. 
Morality  must  needs  be  accompanied  by  conscience  and  re-' 
flection.  So  viewed,  moral  science  is  a  necessary  element  ot 
a  sound  education,  and  the  higher  its  principles  the  more  the 
conscience  is  raised  and  refined. 

4  Life  often  presents  moral  problems  for  our  solution,  it 
the 'mind  is  not  prepared  for  them  it  will  lack  certainty  of 
decision ;  what  above  all  is  to  be  feared  is  that  it  wnl  most  y 
prefer  the  easier  and  the  more  convenient  solution.  It  should 
be  fortified  in  advance  against  its  own  weakness  by  acquiring 
the  habit  of  judging  of  general  questions  before  events  put  it 

to  the  proof.  „    , 

Such  is  the  utility  of  morality.  It  is  of  the  same  service 
to  man  as  geometry  is  to  the  workman;  it  does  ^ot  take  the 
place  of  tact  and  common  sense,  but  it  guides  and  perfects 

^^' iTis  well  understood,  moreover,  that  such  a  study  in  no- 
wise excludes,  it  even  exacts,  the  co-operation  of  al  he 
practical  means  we  have  indicated  above,  which  constitute 
what  is  called  educraion.  Doctrinal  teaching  is  but  the  com- 
plement and  confirmation  of  teaching  by  practice  and  by  ex- 

"s!'" Short  resume  of  theoretical  morality. -T^/^--^^-^^ 


PEELIMINARY   NOTIONS.  "     7 

morality  sliould,  in  fact,  precede  practical  morality,  and  that 
is  what  usually  takes  place ;  but  as  it  presents  more  difficul- 
ties and  less  immediate  applications  than  practical  morality, 
we  shall  defer  the  developments  it  may  give  rise  to,  to  a  subse- 
quent year.*  The  present  will  be  a  short  resume,  purely 
elementary,  containing  only  preliminary  and  strictly  necessary 
notions.  It  will  be  an  exposition  of  the  common  notions  we 
have  just  enumerated  above. 

6.  Pleasure  and  the  good. — Morality  being,  as  we  have 
said,  the  science  of  the  good,  the  first  question  that  presents 
itself  is  :  AVhat  is  good  ? 

If  we  are  to  believe  the  first  impulses  of  nature,  which  in- 
stinctively urge  us  towards  the  agreeable  and  cause  us  to  repel 
all  that  is  painful,  the  answer  to  the  preceding  question 
would  not  be  difficult;  we  should  have  but  to  reply:  "  Good 
is  what  makes  us  happy;  good  is 2->leasicre." 

One  can,  without  doubt,  affirm  that  morality  teaches  us  to 
be  happy,  and  puts  us  on  the  way  to  true  happiness.  But  it 
is  not,  as  one  might  believe,  in  obeying  that  blind  law  of 
nature  which  inclines  us  tov/ards  pleasure,  that  Ave  shall  be 
truly  happy.  The  road  morality  points  out  is  less  easy,  but 
surer. 

Some  very  simple  reflections  will  suffice  to  show  us  that 
it  cannot  be  said  absolutely  that  pleasure  is  the  good  and 
pain  the  bad.  Experience  and  reasoning  easily  demonstrate 
the  falsity  of  this  opinion. 

1.  Pleasure  is  not  always  a  good,  and  in  certain  circum- 
stances it  may  even  become  a  real  evil ;  and,  vice  versa,  pain 
is  not  always  an  evil,  and  it  may  even  l)econie  a  great  good. 
Thus  Ave  see,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  })leasures  of  intem- 
perance bring  Avith  them  sickness,  the  loss  of  health  and  rea- 
son, shortening  of  life.  The  pleasures  of  idleness  bring 
poverty,  iiselessness,  the  contempt  of  men.  The  pleasures  of 
vengeance  and  of  crime  carry  Avith  them  chastisement,  re- 

Thc  fifth  collegiate  year  will  bo  devoted  to  theoretical  morality. 


8  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

morse,  etc.  Conversely,  again,  we  see  the  most  painful 
troubles  and  trials  bringing  with  them  evident  good.  The 
amputation  of  a  limb  saves  our  life ;  energetic  and  painstak- 
ing work  brings  comfort,  etc.  In  these  different  cases,  if  we 
consider  their  results,  it  is  pleasure  that  is  an  evil  and  pain 
a  good. 

.  2.  It  must  be  added  that  among  the  pleasures  there  are 
some  that  are  low,  degrading,  vulgar ;  for  example,  the 
pleasures  of  drunkenness ;  others,  again,  that  are  noble  and 
generous,  as  the  heroism  of  the  soldier.  Among  the  pleasures 
of  man  there  are  some  he  has  in  common  with  the  beasts, 
and  others  that  are  peculiar  to  liim  alone.  Shall  we  put  the 
one  kind  and  the  other  on  the  same  level  1     Assuredly  not. 

3.  There  are  pleasures  very  keen,  which,  however,  are 
fleeting,  and  soon  pass  away,  as  the  pleasures  of  the  passions ; 
others  which  are  durable  and  continuous,  as  those  of  health, 
security,  domestic  comfort,  and  the  respect  of  mankind.  Shall 
we  sacrifice  life-long  pleasures  to  pleasures  that  last  but  an 
hour  ? 

4.  Other  pleasures  are  very  great,  but  equally  uncertain, 
and  dependent  on  chance ;  as,  for  instance,  the  pleasures  of 
ambition  or  the  pleasures  of  the  gaming-table ;  others,  again, 
calmer  and  less  intoxicating,  but  surer,  as  the  pleasures  of 
the  family  circle. 

Pleasures  may  then  be  compared  in  regard  to  certaintij, 
imrity,  durability,  intensity,  etc.  Experience  teaches  that 
we  should  not  seek  pleasures  without  distinction  and  choice ; 
that  we  should  use  our  reason  and  compare  them ;  that  we 
should  sacrifice  an  uncertain  and  fleeting  present  to  a  durable 
future;  prefer  the  simple  and  peaceful  pleasures,  free  from  re- 
grets, to  the  tumultuous  and  dangerous  pleasures  of  tlie  pas- 
sions, etc.  ;  in  a  word,  sacrifice  the  agreeable  to  the  useful. 

7.  Utility  and  virtue. — One  should  prefer,  we  have  just 
seen,  the  useful  to  the  agreeable  ;  but  the  useful  itself  should 
not  be  confounded  with  the  real  good — that  is,  with  the 
honest. 


PRELIMINAKY   NOTIOXS.  9 

Let  us  explain  the  differences  between  these  two  ideas. 

1.  There  is  no  virtue  or  moral  goodness  without  disin- 
terestedness;  and  he  who  never  seeks  anything  but  his  own 
personal  interest  is  branded  by  all  as  a  selfish  man. 

2.  Interest  gives  only  advice ;  morality  gives  commands. 
A  man  is  not  obliged  to  be  skillful,  but  he  is  obliged,  to  be 
viHuous. 

3.  Personal  interest  cannot  be  the  foundation  of  any  ^uli- 
versal  and  general  law  as  applicable  to  others  as  to  ourselves, 
for  the  happiness  of  each  depends  on  his  own  way  of  viewing 
things.  Every  man  takes  his  pleasure  where  he  finds  it,  and 
understands  his  interest  as  he  pleases  ;  but  honesty  or  justice 
is  the  same  for  all  men. 

4.  The  virtuous  is  clear  and  self-evident ;  the  useful  is  un- 
certain. Conscience  tells  every  one  what  is  right  or  WTong ; 
but  it  requires  a  long  trained  experience  to  calculate  all  the 
possible  consequences  of  our  actions,  and  it  would  often  be 
absolutely  impossible  for  us  to  foresee  them.  We  cannot, 
therefore,  always  know  what  is  useful  to  us ;  but  we  can 
always  know  what  is  right. 

5.  It  is  never  impossible  to  do  right ;  but  one  cannot 
always  carry  out  his  own  wishes  in  order  to  be  happy.  The 
prisoner  may  always  bravely  bear  his  prison,  but  he  cannot 
always  get  out  of  it. 

6.  We  judge  ourselves  according  to  the  principles  of  action 
we  recognize.  The  man  who  loses  in  gambling  may  he  troubled 
and  regret  his  imprudence;  but  he  who  is  conscious  of  having 
cheated  in  gambling  (though  he  won  thereby)  must  desjtise 
himself  if  he  judges  himself  from  the  standpoint  of  moral 
law.  This  law  must  therefore  be  something  else  than  the 
jH'inciple  of  personal  happiness.  For,  to  be  able  to  say  to 
one's  self,  "  I  am  a  villain,  though  I  have  filled  my  purse," 
requires  another  principle  than  that  by  which  one  congratu- 
lates himself,  saying,  "  I  am  a  prudent  man,  for  I  have  filled 
my  cash-box." 

7.  The  idea  of  imnishvient  or  chastisement  could  not  be 


10 


ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 


understood,  moreover,  if  the  good  only  ^vere  the  useful.     A 
man  is  not  punished  for  inaptitude;  he  is  punished  for  his 

^'V'  The  good  op  virtue.-We  have  just  seen  that  neither 
pleasure  nor  usefulness  is  the  legitimate  and  supreme  object 
of  human  life.  We  are  certainly  permitted  to  seek  pleasure, 
since  nature  invites  us  to  it ;  hut  we  shoidd  not  make  it  the 
aim  of  life  We  are  also  permitted,  and  even  sometimes 
commanded,  to  seek  what  is  useful,  since  reason  demands  we 
see  to  oiir  self-oreservation.  But,  above  pleasure  and  utdity, 
there  is  another  aim,  a  higher  aim,  the  real  object  of  human 
life.  This  higher  and  final  aim  is  what  we  call,  according  to 
circumstances,  the  good,  the  virtuous,  and  the  just 

Now,  what  is  virtue  ?  ,717 

We  distinguish  in  man  a  double  nature,  lody  and.  soul ; 
and  in  the  soid  itself  two  parts,  one  superior,  one  inferior; 
one  more  particularly  deserving  of  the  name  of  soul,  the  other 
more  carnal,  more  material,  if  one  may  say  so,  winch  comes 
nearer  the  body.  In  one  class  we  have  intdhgence,  sentt- 
ments,  will;  in  the  other,  senses,  appetites,  passions  Isow, 
that  which  distinguishes  man  from  the  lower  animal  is  the 
power  to  rise  above  the  senses,  appetites,  and  passions,  and  to 
be  capable  of  thinking,  loving,  and  willing. 

Thus,  moral  good  consists  in  preferring  what  there  is  best 
in  us  to  what  there  is  least  good ;  the  goods  of  the  soul  to  the 
goods  of  the  body  ;  the  dignity  of  human  nature  to  the  ser^^- 
tude  of  animal  passions ;  the  noble  affections  of  the  heart  to 
the  inclinations  of  a  vile  selfishness.  .        -     i 

In  one  word,  moral  good  consists  in  man  becoming  truly 
uian-that  is  to  say,  ;;  A  free  will,  guided  by  the  heart  and 
enlightened  by  reason."  i  x-  „, 

Moral  -ood  takes  different  names,  according  to  the  relation, 
under  wMch  we  consider  it.  For  instance,  when  we  consider 
it  as  having  for  its  special  object  the  individual  man  m  rela- 
tion with  himself,  good  becomes  what  is  properly  called 
virtu^^,  and  has  for  its  prime  object  personal  dignity,      in  its 


pnELIMIXAi:Y    XOTIONS.  11 

relation  Avith  other  men,  good  takes  tlie  name  of  the  ja4,  and 
has  for  its  special  object  the  happiness  of  others.  It  consists 
either  in  not  doing  to  others  what  we  should  not  wish  they 
shotdd  do  to  us,  ur  in  doing  to  others  as  we  should  ourselves 
wish  to  be  done  by.  Finally,  in  its  relation  to  God,  the 
good  is  called  piety  or  saintliness,  and  consists  in  rendering  to 
the  Father  of  men  and  of  the  universe  what  is  his  due. 

9.  Duty. — Thus,  the  virtuous,  iYiejust,  and  the  j'ioiis  are 
the  different  names  which  moral  good  takes  in  its  relations  to 
ourselves,  to  other  men,  or  to  God. 

Moral  good,  under  these  different  forms,  presents  itself 
always  in  the  same  character,  namely,  imposing  on  us  the  ob- 
ligation to  do  it  as  soon  as  Ave  recognize  it,  and  that,  too, 
without  regard  to  consequences  and  whatever  be  our  inclina- 
tions to  the  contrary. 

Thus,  we  should  tell  the  truth  even  though  it  injures  us; 
we  should  respect  the  property  of  others,  though  it  be  neces- 
sary to  our  existence ;  hnally,  we  should  even  sacriiice,  if 
necessary,  our  life  for  the  family  and  the  country. 

This  law,  which  prescribes  to  us  the  doing  right  for  its 
own  sake,  is  what  is  called  moral  law  or  the  laio  of  duty.  It 
is  a  sort  of  constraint,  but  a  moral  constraint,  and  is  distin- 
guished ivom.  jih  i/sical  constraint  by  the  fact  that  the  latter  is 
dictated  by  fate  and  is  irresistible,  wliilst  the  constraint  of 
duty  imposes  itself  upon  our  reason  without  violating  our 
liberty.  This  kind  of  necessity,  Avhich  commands  reason 
alone  without  constraining  the  will,  is  moral  obligation. 

To  say  that  the  right  is  obligatory  is  to  say,  then,  that  Ave 
consider  ourseh'es  held  to  do  it,  Avithout  being  forced  to  do  it. 
On  the  contrary,  if  Ave  Avere  to  do  it  by  force  it  would  cease 
t©  be  the  right.  It  must  therefore  be  done  freely,  and  duty 
may  thus  be  defined  an  ohligation  consented  to. 

iDuty  presents  itself  in  a  tAvo-fold  character  :  it  is  absolute 
and  universal. 

1.  It  is  absolute  :  that  is  to  say,  it  imposes  its  commands 
Unconditionallv,  Avithout  taking  account  of  our  desires,  our 


12  ELEMKNTS    OF   MORALS. 

passions,  oiTr  interests.  It  is  by  this  that  the  commands  of 
duty  may  be  distinguished,  as  we  have  ah-eady  said,  from  the 
counsels  of  an  interested  prudence.  The  rules  or  calculations 
of  prudence  are  nothing  but  meajis  to  reach  a  certain  end, 
Avhich  is  the  useful.  The  Imv  of  duty,  on  the  contrary,  is  in 
itself  its  own  aim.  Here  the  law  should  be  obeyed  for  its  own 
sake  and  not  for  any  other  reason.  Prudence  says :  "  The 
end  'justifies  the  means."  Duty  says  :  "Do  as  thou  shouldst 
do,  let  come  what  will." 

2.  From  this  first  character  a  second  is  deduced  :  duty  being 
absolute,  is  ujiiversal ;  that  is  to  say,  it  can  be  applied  to  all 
men  in  the  same  manner  and  under  the  same  circumstances  ; 
whence  it  follows  that  each  must  acknowledge  that  this  law 
is  imposed  not  only  on  himself,  but  on  all  other  men  also. 

To  which  correspond  those  two  beautiful  maxims  of  the 
Gospel :  "Do  to  others  as  thou  wishest  to  be  done  by.  Do 
not  do  to  others  what  thou  dost  not  wish  they  should  do  to 

thee."  .      ,^    .     . 

The  law  of  duty  is  not  only  obligatory  m  itself,  it  is  so 
also  because  it  is  derived  from  God,  who  in  his  justice  and 
goodness  wishes  we  should  submit  to  it.  God  being  himself 
the  absolutely  perfect  being,  and  having  created  us  m  his 
imao-e,  wishes,  for  this  very  reason,  that  we  should  make  every 
effort  to  imitate  him  as  much  as  possible,  and  has  thus  imposed 
on  us  the  obligation  of  being  virtuous.  It  is  God  we  obey 
in  obeying  the  law  of  honesty  and  duty. 

10.  Moral  conscience.— A  law  cannot  be  imposed  on  a 
free  agent  without  its  being  known  to  him  ;  without  its  being 
present  to  his  mind-that  is  to  say,  without  his  accepting  it 
as  true,  and  recognizing  the  necessity  of  its  application  m 
every  particular  case.  This  faculty  of  recognizing  the  moral 
law,  and  applying  it  in  all  the  circumstances  that  may  present 
tlicmsclvcs,  is  what  is  called  conHcienre. 

Conscience  is  then  that  act  of  the  mind  by  which  we  apply 
to  a  particular  case,  to  an  action  to  he  performed  or  already 
' perfonwd,  tlie  general  rules  prescribed  by  moral  law.     it  is 


PRELIMINARY    NOTIONS.  13 

botli  the  power  that  commands  and  the  inward  judge  that 
condemns  or  absolves.  On  the  one  liand  it  dictates  wliat 
should  be  done  or  avoided ;  on  the  other  it  judges  what  has 
been  done.  Hence  it  is  the  condition  of  the  performance  of 
all  our  duties. 

Conscience  ])eing  the  practical  judgment  which  in  cacli 
particular  case  decides  the  right  and  the  wrong,  one  can  aslc 
of  man  only  one  thing  :  namely,  to  act  according  to  his  con- 
science. At  the  moment  of  action  there  is  no  other  rule.  But 
one  must  take  great  care  lest  by  subtle  doubts,  he  obscures 
either  within  himself  or  in  others  the  clear  and  distinct  de- 
cisions of  conscience. 

In  fact,  men  often,  to  divert  themselves  from  the  right 
when  they  wish  to  do  certain  bad  actions,  fight  their  own 
conscience  with  sophisms.  Under  the  influence  of  these  soph- 
isms, conscience  becomes  erroneous  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  ends  by 
taking  good  for  evil  and  evil  for  good,  and  this  is  even  one 
of  the  punishments  of  those  who  follow  the  path  of  vice : 
they  become  at  last  incapable  of  discerning  between  right  and 
wrong.  When  it  is  said  of  a  man  that  he  has  no  conscience, 
it  is  not  meant  that  he  is  really  deprived  of  it  (else  he  were 
not  a  man) ;  but  that  he  has  fallen  into  the  habit  of  not  con- 
sulting it  or  of  holding  its  decisions  in  contempt. 

By  ignorant  conscience  we  mean  that  conscience  which  does 
wrong  because  it  has  not  yet  learned  to  know  what  is  right. 
Thus,  a  child  tormenting  animals  does  not  always  do  so  out  of 
bad  motives :  he  does  not  know  or  docs  not  think  that  he 
hurts  them.  In  fact,  it  is  with  good  as  it  is  with  evil ;  the 
child  is  already  good  or  bad  before  it  is  able  to  discern  be- 
tween the  one  or  the  other.  This  is  what  is  called  the  state 
of  innocence,  which  in  some  respects  is  conscience  asleep.  But 
this  state  cannot  last ;  the  child's  conscience,  and  in  general 
the  conscience  of  all  men,  must  l)e  enliglitcncd.  This  is  the 
pingress  of  human  reason  which  every  day  tcarlics  ns  better 
to  know  the  difference  between  good  and  evil. 

It  sometimes  ha])]H'ns  that  one  is  in  some  resitects  in  ikuibt 


14  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

between  t^yo  indications  of  conscience;  not,  of  course,  between 
duty  and  passion,  which  is  the  highest  moral  combat,  but  be- 
tween two  or  more  duties.     This  is  what  is  called  a  douUing 
ov  perplexed  conscience.     In  such  a  case  the  simplest  rule  to 
follow,  when  it  is  practicable,  is  the  one  expressed  by  that 
celebrated  maxim  :    When  in  doubt,  abstain.     In  cases  wliere 
it  is  impossible  to  absolutely  abstain,  and  where  it  becomes 
necessary  not  only  to  act  but  to  choose,  the  rule  should  always 
be  to  choose  that  part  which  favors  least  our  interests,  for  wc 
may  always  suppose  that  that  which  causes  our  conscience  to 
doubt,  is  an  interested,   unobserved  motive.     If  there  is  no 
private  interest  in  the  matter  either  on  the  one  side  or  the 
other,  there  remains   nothing    better  to  do  than    to    decide 
according  to  circumstances.      But  it  is   very  rare   that  con- 
science e°ver  finds  itself  in  such  an  absolute  state  of  doubt,  ana 
there  are  almost  always  more  reasons  on  the  one  side  than  on 
the  other.     The  simplest  and  most  general  rule  in  such  a  case 
is  to  chose  what  seems  most  probable. 

II  Moral  Sentiment.— At  the  same  time,  as  the  vmid 
distinguishes  between  good  and  evil  by  a  judgment  called 
conscience,  the  heart  experiences  emotions  or  divers  affections, 
which  are  embraced  under  the  common  term  moral  sentiment. 
These  are  the  pleasures  or  pains  which  arise  in  our  soul  at  the 
si^ht  of  good  or  evil,  either  in  ourselves  or  in  others. 

°In  respect  to  our  own  actions  this  sentiment  is  modified 
according  as  the  action  is  to  be  performed,  or  is  already  per- 
formed In  the  first  instance  we  experience,  on  the  one  hand, 
a  certain  attraction  for  the  right  (that  is  when  passion  is  not 
strong  enough  to  stifle  it),  and  on  the  other,  a  repugnance  or 
aversion  for  the  wrong  (more  or  less  attenuated,  according  to 
circumstances,  by  habit  or  the  violence  of  the  design).  Usage 
has  not  given  any  particular  names  to  these  two  sentiments. 
'  When  on  the  contrary,  the  action  is  performed,  the  pleasure 
which  results  from  it,  if  we  have  acted  rightly,  is  called  moral 
sntisfadion;  and  if  we  have  acted  wrong,  remorse,  or  re- 
IKiutance. 


PRELIMINARY  NOTIONS.  15 

Remorse  is  a  biirning  pain ;  and,  as  the  word  indicates,  the 
hite  that  tortures  the  heart  after  a  culpable  action.  This 
pain  may  be  found  among  the  very  ones  who  have  no  regret 
for  having  done  wrong,  and  who  would  do  it  over  again  if 
they  could.  It  has  therefore  no  moral  character  whatsoever, 
and  must  be  considered  as  a  sort  of  punishment  attached  to 
crime  by  nature  herself.  "Malice,"  said  Montaigne,  "  poisons 
itself  with  its  own  venom.  Vice  leaves,  like  an  ulcer  in  the 
flesh,  a  repentance  in  the  soul,  which,  ever  scratching  itself, 
draws  ever  fresh  blood." 

Repentance  is  also,  like  remorse,  a  pain  which  comes  from  a 
bad  action;  but  there  is  coupled  with  it  the  regret  of  having  done 
it,  and  the  wish,  if  not  the  firm  resolution,  never  to  do  it  again. 

Repentance  is  a  sadness  of  the  soul ;  remorse  is  a  torture 
and  an  anguish.  Repentance  is  almost  a  virtue  ;  remorse  is 
a  punishment ;  but  the  one  leads  to  the  other,  and  he  who 
feels  no  remorse  can  feel  no  repentance. 

Moral  satisfaction,  on  the  contrary,  is  a  peace,  a  joy,  a  keen 
and  delicious  emotion  born  from  the  feeling  of  having  accom- 
plished one's  duty.  It  is  the  only  remuneration  that  never 
fails  us. 

Among  the  sentiments  called  forth  by  our  own  actions, 
there  are  two  which  are  the  natural  auxiliaries  of  the  moral 
sentiment :  they  are  the  sentiment  of  honor  and  the  sentiment 
of  shame. 

Honor  is  a  principle  which  incites  us  to  perform  actions 
which  raise  us  in  our  own  eyes,  and  to  avoid  such  as  would 
lower  us. 

Shame  is  the  opposite  of  honor ;  it  is  what  we  feel  when 
we  have  done  sometliing  that  loAvers  us  not  only  in  tlie 
eyes  of  others,  but  in  our  own.  All  remorse  is  more  or  less 
accompanied  by  shame  ;  yet  the  shame  is  greater  for  actions 
which  indicate  a  certain  baseness  of  soul.  For  instance,  one 
will  feel  more  ashamed  of  having  told  a  falsehood  than  for 
having  struck  a  person  ;  for  having  cheated  in  gambling  than 
for  having  fought  a  duel. 


IQ  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

Honor  and  shame  are  therefore  not  always  an  exact  measure 
of  the  moral  value  of  actions  ;  for  be  they  but  brilliant,  man 
will  soon  rid  himself  of  all  shame  ;  this  happens,  for  instance, 
in  cases  of  prodigality,  licentiousness,  ambition.  One  does 
wrong,  not  without  remorse,  but  with  a  certain  ostentation 
which  stifles  the  feelings  of  shame. 

Let  us  pass  now  to  the  sentiments  which  the  actions  of 
others  excite  in  us. 

Sympathy,  antipathy,  kindness,  esteem,  contempt,  respect, 
enthusiasm,  indignation,  these  are  the  various  terms  by  which 
we  express  the  diverse  sentiments  of  the  soul  touching  virtue 

and  vice. 

Sympat/nj  is  a  disposition  to  share  the  same  impressions 
with  other  men  ;  to  sympathize  with  their  joy  is  to  share 
that  joy  ;  to  sympathize  with  their  grief  is  to  share  that  grief. 
It  may  happen  that  one  sympathizes  with  the  defects  of  others 
when  they  are  the  same  as  our  own ;  but,  as  a  general  thing, 
people  sympathize  above  all  with  the  good  qualities,  and 
experience  only  antipathy  for  the  bad.  At  the  theatre,  all 
the  spectators,  good  and  bad,  wish  to  see  virtue  rewarded  and 
crime  punished. 

The  contrary  of  sympathy  is  antipathy. 

Kindness  is  the  disposition  to  wish  others  well.  Esteem  is  a 
sort  of  kindness  mingled  with  judgment  and  reflection,  which 
we  feel  for  those  who  have  acted  well,  especially  in  cases  of  or- 
dinary virtues  ;  for  before  the  higher  and  more  difficult  virtues, 
esteem  becomes  resjyed  ;  if  it  be  heroism,  respect  turns  into 
admiration  and  enthusiasm  ;  admiration  being  the  feeling  of 
surprise  which  great  actions  excite  in  us,  and  enthusiasm  that 
same  feeling  pushed  to  an  extreme ;  carrying  us  away  from  our- 
selves, as  if  a  god  were  in  us.*  Contemjjt  is  the  feeling  of 
aversion  we  entertain  towards  him  who  does  wrong ;  it  im- 
plies particularly  a  case  of  base  and  shameful  actions. 
When   these   actions   are   only  condemnable    without   being 

*  The  word  entliusiasm  comes  from  a  Greek  word  signifying,  to  be  filled  with 
a  Kod. 


PRELIMINARY   NOTIONS.  17 

odious,  the  sentiment  is  one  of  hlame,  which,  Hke  esteem,  is 
nearer  being  a  judgment  than  a  sentiment.  When,  finally,  it 
is  a  case  of  criminal  and  revolting  actions,  the  feeling  is  one 
of  horror  or  execration. 

12.  Liberty. — We  have  already  said  that  man  or  the 
vioral  atjmt  !■&  free,  when  he  is  in  a  condition  to  choose  be- 
tween right  and  wrong,  and  able  to  do  either  at  his  will. 

Liberty  always  supposes  one  to  be  in  possession  of  himself. 
Man  is  free  when  he  is  awake,  in  a  state  of  reason,  and  an 
adult.  He  is  not  free,  or  very  little  so,  when  he  is  asleep, 
or  delirious,  or  in  his  first  childhood. 

Liberty  is  certified  to  man. 

L  By  the  inward  sentiment  which  accompanies  each  of  his 
acts ;  for  instance,  at  the  moment  of  acting,  I  feci  that  I  can 
will  or  not  Avill  to  do  such  or  such  an  action  ;  if  I  enter  on 
it,  I  feel  that  I  can  discontinue  it  as  long  as  it  is  not  fully 
executed ;  when  it  is  completed,  I  am  convinced  that  I  might 
have  acted  otherwise. 

2.  By  the  very  fact  of  moral  km  or  chdy;  I  o^ight,  therefore 
I  can.  jSTo  one  is  held  to  do  the  impossible.  If,  then,  there  is 
in  me  a  law  that  commands  me  to  do  good  and  avoid  evil,  it 
is  because  I  can  do  either  as  I  wish. 

3.  By  the  moral  satisfaction  which  accompanies  a  good 
action  ;  by  the  remorse  or  repentance  which  follows  a  bad  one. 
One  does  not  rejoice  over  a  thing  done  against  his  will,  and 
no  one  reproaches  himself  for  an  act  committed  under  com- 
pulsion. The  first  word  of  all  those  reproached  for  a  bad 
action  is,  that  it  was  not  done  on  jjurpose,  intentionally.  They 
acknowledge  thereby  that  we  can  only  be  reproached  for  an 
action  done  wilfully  ;  namely,  freely. 

4.  By  the  rewards  and  punishments,  and  in  general  by  the 
moral  responsibility  which  is  attached  to  all  our  actions  when 
they  have  been  committed  knowingly.  We  do  not  })unish 
actions  which  are  the  result  of  constraint  or  ignorance. 

5.  By  the  exhortations  or  counsels  we  give  to  others.  A^  e 
do  not  exhort  a  man  to  be  warm  or  cold,  not  to  sulfer  hunger 


18  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

or  thirst,  because  it  is  well  known  that  tliis  is  not  a  thing  de- 
pendent on  his  will.  But  we  exhort  him  to  be  honest,  be- 
cause we  believe  that  he  can  be  so  if  he  wishes. 

6.  By  promises  :  no  one  promises  not  to  die,  not  to  be  sick, 
etc.,  but  one  promises  to  be  present  at  a  certain  meeting,  to 
pay  a  certain  sum  of  money,  on  such  a  day,  to  such  a  man, 
because  one  feels  he  can  do  so  unless  circumstances  over 
which  he  has  no  control  prevent. 

Prejudices  against  Liberty. — Although  men,  as  we  have  seen, 
may  have  the  sense  of  liberty  very  strong,  and  may  show  it  by 
their  acts,  by  their  approbation  or  blame,  etc.,  yet,  on  the  other 
hand,  they  often  yield  to  the  force  of  certain  prejudices 
which  seem  to  contradict  the  universal  belief  we  have  just 
spoken  of. 

1,  Character. — The  principal  one  of  these  prejudices  is  the 
often  expressed  opinion  that  every  man  is  impelled  by  his  own 
character  to  perform  the  actions  which  accord  with  this  chai- 
acter,  and  that  there  is  no  help  against  this  irresistible  neces- 
sity of  nature  ;  this  is  often  expressed  by  the  common  axiom  : 
"One  cannot  make  himself  over  again."  The  same  has  also 
been  expressed  by  the  poet  Destouches  in  that  celebrated  line  : 

Chassez  le  uaturel,  il  revient  au  galop.* 

Nothing  is  less  exact  as  a  fact  and  more  dangerous  as  a 
principle,  than  this  pretended  immutability  of  human  char- 
acter, which,  if  true,  would  render  evil  irremediable  and  incor- 
rigible. 

Experience  teaches  the  contrary.  J^o  man  is  wholly  de- 
prived of  good  and  bad  inclinations  ;  he  may  develoj)  the  one 
or  the  other,  as  he  chooses  between  them. 

2.  Habits. — Habits  in  the  long  run  become,  it  is  true, 
irresistible.  It  is  a  fact  which  has  been  often  observed  ;  but 
if,  on  the  one  hand,  an  inveterate  habit  is  irresistible,  it  is  not 
so  in  the  beginning,  and  man  is  tlius  free  to   prevent  the  en- 

*  Drive  away  nature,  and  it  gallops  back  again.     Lafontaine  has  said  the  same 
thing  :  "Shut  the  door  to  its  nose,  and  it  will  return  by  the  window." 


PRELIMIXARY    NOTIONS.  19 

croachments  of  bad  habits.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  moralists 
warn  us  above  all  against  the  beginnings  of  habits.  "  Beware 
especially  of  beginnings,"  says  the  Imitation. 

3.  Passiom. — Passions  have  especially  enjoyed  the  privilege 
of  passing  for  uncontrollable  and  irresistible.  All  great  sin- 
ners find  their  excuse  in  the  fatal  allurements  of  passions, 
"  The  spirit  is  willing,  but  the  flesh  is  weak,"  says  the  Gos- 
pel. The  remarks  we  have  just  made  touching  the  habits, 
may  be  equally  applied  to  the  passions.  It  is  rare  that  pas- 
sions manifest  themselves  all  of  a  sudden,  and  with  that  ex- 
cess of  violence  which,  breaking  upon  one  unexpectedly  and 
like  a  delirium,  assume,  indeed,  aU  the  appearances  of  a 
fatality.  But,  as  a  general  thing,  passions  grow  little  by  little. 
"  Some  smaller  crimes  always  precede  the  greater  crimes."  It 
is  especially  when  the  first  attacks  of  a  passion  begin  to  show 
themselves  that  it  should  be  energetically  fought  do%vn. 

4.  Education  and  circumstances. — The  education  one  has 
received,  the  circumstances  one  finds  himself  in,  may  put  a 
limit  to  his  liberty  ;  and  man  is  not  wholly  responsible  for  the 
impulses  which  he  may  owe  to  example  and  the  bad  principles 
in  which  he  may  have  been  brought  up.  These  may,  perhaps, 
be  called  atteniiating  circumstances  ;  but  they  do  not  go  so  far 
as  wholly  to  suppress  liberty  and  responsibility.  In  the  ap- 
preciation of  other  people's  acts,  we  may  allow  the  atteniLating 
circumstances  as  large  a  margin  as  possible,  but  in  the  case  of 
self-government,  one  should  make  it  as  strict  and  narrow  as 
possible.  No  one  having,  in  fact,  a  measure  by  which  he  may 
determine  his  moral  strength  in  an  absolute  manner,  it  is 
better  to  aim  too  high  than  too  low.  One  should  be  guided 
by  the  principle  that  nothing  is  impossible  to  him  who  has  a 
strong  will ;  for  "  we  can  do  a  thing  when  we  think  we  can." 
In  conclusion,  liberty  means  nothing  else  but  moral  strength. 
Experience  certifies  that  man  can  become  the  master  of  the 
physical  nature  which  he  can  subject  to  his  designs ;  he  can 
gain  the  mastery  over  his  own  body,  his  passions,  his  habits, 
his  own  disposition ;  in  a  word,  he  can  be  "  master  of  him- 


20  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

self."  In  thus  ascending,  step  by  step,  from  exterior  nature 
to  the  body,  from  the  body  to  the  passions,  from  the  passions 
to  the  liabits  and  the  character,  we  arrive  at  the  first  motor 
of  action  which  moves  everything  without  being  moved  : 
namely,  liberty. 

13/  Merit  and  demerit— We  call  in  general  mmt  the 
quality  by  virtue  of  which  a  moral  agent  renders  himself 
worthy  of  a  reward ;  and  demerit  that  by  which  he  renders 
himself,  so  to  say,  worthy  of  punishment. 

The  merit  of  an  action  may  be  determined  :  1,  by  the  diflfi^ 
culty  of  the  action  ;  2,  by  the  importance  of  the  duty. 

1.  ^^^ly,  for  instance,  is  there  in  general  very  little  merit 
in  respecting  other  people's  property  and  abstaining  from 
theft  1  Because  education  in  this  respect  has  so  fashioned  us, 
that  few  men  have  any  temptation  to  the  contrary;  and,  even 
were  there  such  a  temptation,  we  should  be  ashamed  to  pub- 
licly claim  any  merit  for  having  resisted  it. 

Why,  on  the  other  hand,  is  there  great  merit  in  sacrificing 
one's  life  to  the  happiness  of  others  ?  Because  we  are  strongly 
attached  to  life,  and  comparatively  very  little  attached  to  men 
in  general ;  to  sacrifice  what  we  love  most,  to  what  we  love 
but  little,  from  a  sense  of  duty,  is  evidently  very  difiicult ;  for 
this  reason,  we  find  in  this  action  a  very  great  merit. 

Suppose  a  man,  who  had  enjoyed  in  all  security  of  con- 
science and  during  a  long  life,  a  large  fortune  which  he  be- 
lieves his,  and  of  which  he  has  made  the  noblest  use,  shordd 
learn  all  at  once,  and  at  the  brink  of  old  age,  that  this  fortune 
belongs  to  another.  Suppose,  to  render  the  action  still  more 
difficult  to  perform,  that  he  alone  knows  the  fact,  and  could 
consequently  in  all  security  keep  the  fortune  if  he  wishes  : 
aggravate  the  situation  still  more  by  supposing  that  this  for- 
tune belongs  to  heirs  in  great  poverty,  and  that  in  renouncing 
it  the  possessor  would  himself  be  reduced  to  utter  misery. 
Imagine,  finally,  all  the  circumstances  which  may  render  a 
duty  both  the  strictest  and  most  difiicult,  and  you  will  have 
an  action  the  merit  of  wliich  will  be  very  great. 


PRELIMINARY  NOTIONS.  21 

2.  It  is  not  only  the  difficulty  of  an  action  that  constitutes 
its  merit,  but  also  the  importance  of  the  duty.  Thus  the 
merit  of  a  difficulty  surmounted,  has  no  more  value  in 
morality  than  it  has  in  poetry,  when  it  stands  alone.  One 
may  of  course  impose  upon  himself  a  sort  of  moral  gymnastics, 
and  consequently  very  difficult  tasks,  though  very  useless  in 
the  end;  but  these  will  be  considered  only  in  the  light  of  dis- 
cipline and  exercise,  and  not  in  that  of  duty ;  and  this  dis- 
cipline would  have  to  be  more  or  less  connected  with  the  life 
one  may  be  called  to  lead.  For  instance,  suppose  a  mission- 
ary, called  to  brave  during  all  his  life  all  kinds  of  climates 
and  dangers,  should  exercise  himself  beforehand  in  under- 
takings brave  and  bold,  such  undertakings  Avould  be  both 
reasonable  and  meritorious.  But  he  Avho  out  of  bravado, 
ostentation,  and  without  any  worthy  aim,  should  undertake  the 
climbing  to  inaccessible  mountain-tops,  the  swimming  across 
an  arm  of  the  sea,  the  fighting  openly  ferocious  animals,  etc., 
he  would  accomplish  actions  which,  it  is  true,  would  not  be 
without  merit,  since  they  are  brave  ;  but  their  merit  would  not 
be  equivalent  to  that  we  should  attribute  to  other  actions  less 
difficult,  but  more  wise. 

As  to  demerit,  it  is  in  proportion  to  the  gravity  of  duties, 
and  the  facility  of  accomplishing  them.  The  more  important 
a  matter,  and  the  easier  to  fulfil,  the  more  is  one  culpable 
in  failing  to  fulfil  it. 

According  to  these  principles,  one  may  determine  as  follows 
the  estimation  of  moral  actions  : 

Human  actions,  we  have  said,  are  divided  into  two  classes  : 
the  good  and  the  bad.  It  is  a  question  among  tlie  moralists 
to  determine  whether  there  are  any  that  are  to  be  called  in- 
differ'^nt. 

Among  the  good  actions,  some  are  heaidifvl,  Tieraic,  sublime  ; 
others,  proper,  right,  and  virtuom  ;  among  the  bad,  some  are 
simply  censurable,  others  shnmefid,  criininal,  hideous  ;  finally, 
among  the  indifferent  ones,  some  are  agreeable  and  allowable, 
others  necessary  and  unavoidabla 


23  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

Let  us  give  some  examples  by  which  the  different  characters 
of  human  actions  may  be  well  understood. 

A  judge  v/ho  administers  justice  without  partiality,  a  mer- 
chant who  sells  his  merchandise  for  no  more  than  it  is  worth, 
a  debtor  who  regularly  pays  his  creditor,  a  soldier  punctual 
at  drill,  obedient  to  discipline,  and  faithful  at  his  post  in 
times  of  peace  or  war,  a  schoolboy  doing  regularly  the  task 
assigned  to  him,  all  these  persons  perform  actions  good  and 
laudable,  but  they  cannot  be  called  extraordinary.  They  are 
approved  of,  but  not  admired.  To  manage  one's  fortune 
economically,  not  to  yield  too  much  to  the  pleasure  of  the 
senses,  to  tell  no  lies,  to  neither  strike  nor  wound  others,  are 
so  many  good,  right,  proper,  and  estimable  actions ;  but  they 
cannot  be  called  admirable  actions. 

Actions  are  beautiful  in  proportion  to  the  difficulty  of  their 
performance ;  when  they  are  extremely  difficult  and  perilous, 
then  we  call  them  heroic  and  sublime ;  that  is,  provided  they 
are  good  actions,  for  heroism  is  unfortunately  sometimes  allied 
with  wrong.  He  who,  like  President  de  Harlay,  can  say  to 
a  very  powerful  usurper :  "  It  is  a  sad  thing  when  the  servant  is 
allowed  to  dismiss  the  master ;"  he  who  can  say,  like  Viscount 
d'Orthez,  who  made  opposition  to  Charles  IX.  after  St. 
Bartholomew,  saying  :  "  My  soldiers  are  no  executioners  ;"  ho 
who,  like  Boissy  d'Anglas,  can  firmly  and  resolutely  uphold  the 
rights  of  an  assembly  in  the  face  of  a  sanguinary,  violent,  and 
rebellious  popiilace ;  he  who,  like  Morus  or  Dubourg,  would 
rather  die  than  sacrifice  his  trust ;  he  who,  like  Columbus, 
can  venture  upon  an  unknown  ocean,  and  brave  the  revolt  of 
a  rude  and  superstitious  crew,  to  obey  a  generous  conviction  ; 
he  who,  like  Alexander,  confides  in  friendship  enough  to  re- 
ceive from  the  hands  of  his  physician  a  drink  reputed  poisoned; 
any  man,  in  short,  who  devotes  himself  for  his  fellow  beings, 
who,  in  fire,  in  water,  in  the  depths  of  the  earth,  braves 
death  to  save  life ;  who,  in  order  to  spread  the  truth,  to  re- 
main true  and  honest,  to  work  in  the  interests  of  religion, 


PRELIMINAKY    NOTIONS.  23 

science,  or  humanity,  will  suffer  hunger  and  thirst,  poverty, 
slavery,  torture,  or  death,  is  a  hero. 

Epictetus  was  a  slave.  His  master,  for  some  negligence  or 
other,  caused  him  to  l)e  beaten.  "  You  will  break  my  leg," 
said  the  sufferer  ;  and  the  leg  broke,  indeed,  under  the  blows. 
"  I  told  you  you  would  break  it,"  he  remarked  quietly.  This 
is  a  hero. 

Joan  of  Arc,  defeated  by  the  English  and  made  a  prisoner, 
threatened  with  the  stake,  said  to  her  executioners  :  "  I  knew 
quite  well  that  the  English  would  put  me  to  death  ;  but  were 
there  a  hundred  thousand  of  them,  they  should  not  have  this 
kingdom."     This  is  a  heroine. 

Bad  actions  have  their  degrees  likewise.  But  here  we 
should  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  worst  are  those  that 
stand  in  opposition  to  the  simply  good  actions ;  on  the  con- 
trary, an  action  which  is  not  heroic  is  not  necessarily  bad ; 
and  when  it  is  bad  it  is  not  to  be  classed  among  the  most 
criminal.  Some  examples  will  again  be  necessary  to  under- 
stand these  various  shades  of  meaning,  which  every  one  feels 
and  recognizes  in  practice,  but  which  are  very  difficult  to 
analyze  theoretically. 

To  be  respectful  towards  one's  parents  is  a  good  and  proper 
action,  but  not  a  heroic  one.  On  the  contrary,  to  strike  them, 
insult  them,  kill  them,  are  abominable  actions,  and  to  be 
classed  among  the  basest  and  most  hideous  that  can  be  com- 
mitted. To  love  one's  friends,  to  be  as  serviceable  to  them 
as  possible,  shows  a  straightforward  and  well-endowed  soul ; 
but  there  is  nothing  sublime  in  it.  On  the  other  hand,  to 
betray  friendship ;  to  slander  those  that  love  us ;  to  lie 
in  order  to  win  their  favor ;  to  inquire  into  their  secrets 
for  the  purpose  of  using  them  against  them,  are  black, 
base,  and  shameful  actions.  There  is  scarcely  any  merit  in 
not  taking  what  does  not  belong  to  us  ;  theft,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  the  most  contemptible  of  things.  Xow,  not  to  be 
able  to  bear  with  adversity,  to  fear  death,  to  shrink  from 
braving  the  ice  of  the  North  Polo,  to  stay  at  home  when  firo 


24  ^        ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

or  flood  threatens  our  neiglibor,  may  be  mean  or  weak,  but  not 
criminal.     Let  us  add,  however,  that  there  are  cases  where 
heroism  becomes  obligatory,  and  where  it  is  criminal  not  to  be 
heroic.      A  sea-captain,  who  has  endangered  his  ship,  and 
who,  instead  of  saving  it,  leaves  his  post ;  a  general  who, 
when  the  moment  caUs  for  it,  refuses  to  die  at  the  head  of 
his  army,  lack  courage  ;  the  chief  of  a  State  who,  m  times  of 
revolt,  or  when  the  country  is  in  peril,  fears  death;  the  pre- 
sident of  a  convention  who  takes  to  flight  before  a  rebellion  ; 
the  physician  who  runs  away  before  an  epidemic  ;  the  magis- 
trate who  is  afraid  to  be  just;  all  .these  are  tndy  culpable. 
Every  condition  of  life  has  its  peculiar  heroism,  which  at  cer- 
tain moments  becomes  a  duty.     Yet  will  it  always  be  true 
that  the  more  easy  an  action  is,  the  less  excusable  is  its  neglect, 
and  consequently  the  more  odious  is  it  to  try  to  escape  from  it. 
Besides  the  good  or  bad  actions,  there  are  others  wliich  ap- 
pear to  partake  of  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  of  these  two 
characters,  which  are  neither  good  nor  bad,   and  which  for 
this  reason  are  called  indifferent.     For  instance,  to  go  and 
take  a  walk  is  an  action  which,  considered  by  itself,  is  neither 
good  nor  bad,  although  it  may  become  the  one  or  the  other 
according  to  circumstances.      To  be  asleep,  to  be  awake,  to 
eat,  to  take  exercise,  to  talk   with  one's  friends,  to  read  an 
agreeable  book,  to  play  on  some  instrument,  are  actions  which 
certainly  have  nothing  bad  in  themselves,  but  which,  never- 
theless, could  not  be  cited  as  examples  of  good  actions.      One 
would  not  say,  for  instance,  such  a  one  is  an  honest  man  be- 
cause he  plays  the  viohn  well ;  such  a  one  is  a  scholar  because 
he  has  a  good  appetite;    still  less  when  actions  absolutely 
necessary  come  into  question,  as  the  act  of  breathing  and 
sleeping.     Actions,    then,   which   are  inseparable   from   the 
necessities  of  our  existence,  have  no  moral  character ;  they  are 
the  same  with  us  as  with  the   animals  and  plants;  thej  are 
purely  natural  actions.      TIhtc,  arc  others,  again,  that  are  not 
necessary,  but  simply  agreeable,  which  we  perform  because 
thoy  suit  our  tastes  and  fancies. 


PRELIMINARY    NOTIONS.  25 

It  is  sufficient  that  they  are  not  contrary  to  the  riglit,  that 
one  cannot  call  them  bad ;  but  it  does  not  follow  from  this 
that  they  arc  good,  and  such  are  what  are  called  indifferent 
actions. 

Such,  at  least,  is  the  appearance  of  things ;  for,  in  a  more 
elevated  sense,  the  moralists  were  right  in  saying  that  there 
is  no  action  absolutely  indifferent,  and  that  all  actions  are  in 
some  respect  good  or  l\ad,  according  to  motive. 

14.  Moral  responsibility. — Man  being  free,  is  for  this  reason 
responsible  for  liis  actions  :  they  can  be  imputed  to  him.  These 
two  expressions  have  about  the  same  meaning,  only  the  term 
responsibility  applies  to  the  agent,  and  imputability  to  the 
actions. 

The  two  fundamental  conditions  of  moral  responsibdity 
are:  1,  the  knowledge  of  good  and  evd;  2,  the  liberty  of 
action.  In  proportion  as  these  two  conditions  vary,  the  re- 
sponsibility will  vary. 

It  foUows  from  tins,  that  idiocy,  insanity,  delirium  in  cases 
of  illness — destroying  nearly  always  both  conditions  of  re- 
sponsibdity— namely,  discernment  and  free  agency,  deprive 
thereby  of  all  moral  character  the  actions  committed  in  these 
different  states.  They  are  not  of  a  nature  to  be  imputed  to 
a  moral  agent.  Yet  are  there  certain  lunatics  not  wholly  in- 
sane Avho  may  preserve  in  their  lucid  state  a  certain  portion  of 
responsibility. 

2.  Drunkenness.  May  that  be  considered  a  cause  of  irre- 
sponsibility ?  No,  certainly  not ;  for,  on  the  one  hand,  one  is 
responsible  for  the  very  act  of  drunkenness ;  and,  on  the  other, 
one  knows  that  in  putting  himself  in  such  a  condition  he  ex- 
poses himself  to  all  its  consequences,  and  accepts  them  im- 
plicitly. For  example,  he  who  puts  himself  in  a  state  of 
drunkenness,  consents  beforehand  to  all  the  low,  vulgar 
actions  inseparable  from  that  state.  As  to  the  violent  and 
dangerous  actions  which  may  accidentally  result  froui  it,  as 
blows  and  murders  springing  from  quarrels,  one  cannot,  of 
course,  impute  tlu/m  to  tlie  drunken  man  with  tlic  same  sever- 


ae  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

ity  as  to  the  sober  man,  for  he  certainly  did  not  explicitly 
chose  them  when  he  put  liimself  into  a  state  of  drunkenness ; 
but  neither  is  he  wholly  innocent  of  them,  for  he  knew  that 
they  were  some  of  the  possible  consequences  of  that  condition. 
As  to  him  who  puts  himself  voluntarily  into  a  state  of 
drunkenness,  with  the  express  intention  of  committing  a 
crime  and  giving  himself  courage  for  the  act,  it  is  evident 
that,  so  far  from  dimmishing  thereby  his  share  of  responsi- 
bility in  the  action,  he,  on  the  contrary,  increases  it,  since  he 
makes  violent  efforts  to  keep  off  all  the  scruples  or  hesitations 
which  might  keep  him  from  committing  it. 

3.  "No  one  is  held  to  do  impossible  things."  According 
to  this  theory,  it  is  evident  that  one  is  not  responsible  for  an 
action  he  has  been  absolutely  unable  to  accompHsh ;  thus  we 
cannot  blame  a  paralytic,  or  a  child,  or  an  invalid,  for  not 
taking  up  arms  in  defence  of  his  country.  Yet  Ave  must  not 
have  voluntarily  created  the  impossibility  of  acting,  as  it  often 
happened  in  Eome,  where  some,  in  order  not  to  go  to  war,  cut 
off  their  thumbs.  The  same  with  a  debtor  who,  by  circum- 
stances independent  of  liis  will  (fire,  shipwreck,  epidemics),  is 
unable  to  acquit  himself :  he  is  excusable ;  but  if  he  placed 
himself  in  circumstances  which  he  knew  would  disable  him, 
his  inability  is  no  longer  an  excuse. 

4.  ISTatural  qualities  or  defects  of  mind  and  body  cannot  be 
imputed  to  any  one,  either  for  good  or  for  bad.  Who  would 
reproach  a  man  for  being  born  blind,  or  because  he  became  so 
in  consequence  of  sickness  or  a  blow  1  The  same  with  the 
defects  of  the  mind:  no  one  is  responsible  for  having  no 
memory,  or  for  not  being  bright.  Yet  as  these  defects  may  be 
corrected  by  exercise,  we  arc  more  or  less  responsible  for  mak- 

•  ing  no  efforts  to*remedy  them.  As  to  the  defects  or  deformities 
which  result  from  our  own  fault,  as,  for  example,  the  conse- 
quences of  our  passions,  it  is  evident  that  they  can  justly  be 
imputed  to  us.  Natural  qualities  cannot  be  credited  to  any 
one.  Thus  we  should  not  honor  people  for  their  physical 
strength,  health,  beauty,  or  even  wit ;  and  no  one  should  boast 


PRELIMINARY   NOTIONS.  27 

of  such,  advantages,  or  pride  himself  on  them.  However,  he 
who  by  a  Avise  and  laborious  life  has  succeeded  in  preserving 
or  developing  his  physical  strength,  or  who,  by  the  effort  of 
his  will,  has  cultivated  and  perfected  his  mind,  deserves 
praise ;  and  it  is  thus  that  physical  and  moral  advantages 
may  become  indirectly  legitimate  matter  for  moral  appro- 
bation. 

5.  The  effects  of  extraneous  causes  and  events,  whatever 
they  may  be,  Avhether  good  or  bad,  can  only  be  imputed  to 
a  man,  as  he  could  or  should  have  produced,  prevented,  or 
directed  them,  and  has  been  careful  or  negligent  in  doing  so. 
Thus  a  farmer,  according  as  he  works  the  land  entrusted  to 
liim  Avell  or  badly,  is  made  responsible  for  a  good  or  bad 
harvest. 

6.  A  final  question  is  that  of  the  responsibility  of  a  man  for 
other  peoi:)le's  actions.  Theoretically,  no  man  certainly  is 
responsible  for  any  but  his  own  actions.  But  human  actions 
are  so  interlinked  ■with  each  other  that  it  is  very  rare  that  we 
liave  not  some  share,  direct  or  indirect,  in  the  conduct  of 
others.  For  instance,  one  is  responsible  in  a  certain  measure 
for  the  conduct  of  those  under  him ;  a  father  for  his  children, 
a  master  for  his  servants,  and,  up  to  a  certain  point,  an  em- 
ployer for  his  workmen ;  2,  one  is  responsible  in  a  measure 
for  actions  which  he  might  have  prevented,  when,  either 
through  negligence  or  laziness,  he  did  not  do  so  ;  if  you  see  a ' 
man  about  to  kill  himself,  and  make  no  effort  to  prevent  it, 
you  are  not  innocent  of  his  death,  unless,  of  course,  you  did 
not  suspect  what  he  was  going  to  do ;  3,  you  are  responsible 
for  other  people's  actions  when,  either  by  your  instigations,  or 
even  by  a  simple  approbation,  you  have  co-operated  towards 
them. 

15.  Moral  sanction. — We  call  the  sa?iction  of  a  law  the 
body  of  recompenses  and  punishments  attached  to  the  execu- 
tion or  violation  of  the  law.  Civil  laws,  in  general,  make 
more  use  of  punishments  than  rewards  ;  for  punishments  may 
appear  means  sufficieiit  to  have  the  law  execatod.      In  educa- 


23  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

tion,  on  the  contrary,  the  commands  or  laAvs  laid  down  by  a 
superior,  have  as  much  need  of  rewards  as  punishments. 

But  what  is  to  be  understood  by  the  terms  recompense  and 
pimishment  ?  The  recompense  of  a  good  and  virtuous  action 
is  the  pleasure  we  derive  from  it,  and  for  the  very  reason  that 
it  is  good  and  virtuous. 

There  are  to  be  distinguished,  however,  two  other  kinds  of 
rewards,  which,  though  they  resemble  recompense,  are  never- 
theless very  different  from  it  namely,  favor  and  remunera- 
tion. ■  \      i. 
Favor  is  a  pleasure  or  an  advantage  bestowed  on  us,  without 
our  having  deserved  or  earned  it ;  a  pure  expression  of  the 
good-will  of  others  towards  us.     It  is  thus  that  a  king  grants 
favors  to  his  courtiers,  that  those  in  power  distribute  favors. 
It  is  thus  we   speak   of   the  favors   of  fortune.     Although 
theoretically  there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  understand  the 
word  favor  in  a  bad  sense,  yet  has  it  by  usage  come  to  signify 
not  only  an  advantage  undeserved,  but  unworthy ;  not  only  a 
legitimate  preference  which  has  its  reason  in  sympathy,  but 
an  arbitrary  choice  more  or  less  contrary  to  justice.     How- 
ever, although  no  such  ugly  signification  need  be  attached  to 
it  a  favor,  as  a  gratuitous  gift,  must  always  be  distinguished 
from  reward,  which,  on  the  contrary,  implies  a  remuneration; 
that  is  to  say,  a  gift  in  return  for  something. 

Yet  not  all  remuneration  is  necessarily  a  reward ;  and  here 
we  must  establish  another  distinction  between  reward  and  re- 
muneration. By  remuneration  we  mean  the  price  we  pay  for  a 
service  rendered  us,  no  matter  what  motive  may  determine  a  per- 
son to  render  us  this  service ;  it  is  for  its  utility  we  pay,  and 
for  nothin-  else.  The  reward,  on  the  contrary,  imphes  the  idea 
of  a  certain  effort  to  do  good.  He  who  renders  us  a  service 
from  affection  and  devotion,  would  refuse  being  paid  for  it, 
and,  vice  versa,  he  who  sells  us  his  work  does  not  ask  us  for 
a  recompense,  but  for  an  equivalent  of  what  he  would  have 
earned  for  himself  if  he  had  applied  his  work  to  his  own 
wants. 


PRELIMINARY    NOTIOXS.  29 

On  the  contrary,  "\ve  call  every  pain  or  suffering  inflicted  on 
an  agent  for  committing  a  bad  action,  for  no  other  reason  than 
that  it  is  bad,  chastisement  or  pimishment. 

Punishment  stands  against  damage  or  icrong  ;  tliat  is  to  say, 
asainst  undeserved  harm.  The  hloics  of  fortune  or  of  men  are 
not  always  punishments.  One  may  be  struck  without  being 
punished. 

Although  we  say  in  a  general  way  that  the  ills  that  befall 
men  are  often  the  chastisements  of  their  faults,  yet  this  should 
not  be  taken  too  strictly,  otherwise  we  shoidd  too  easily 
transform  the  merely  unfortunate  into  criminals. 

Although  recompenses  and  punishments  may  be  only 
secondary  means  by  Avhich  men  may  be  led  to  do  good  and 
avoid  evil,  this  should  not  be  their  essential  office  nor  their 
real  idea. 

It  is  not  that  the  law  sJiould  he  fulfilled  that  there  are  re- 
wards and  punishments  in  morality ;  it  is  became  it  has  been 
fulfilled  or  violated.  Such  is  the  true  principle  of  reward. 
It  comes  from  justice,  not  utility. 

For  the  same  reason,  chastisement,  in  its  true  sense,  should 
not  only  be  a  menace  insuring  the  execution  of  the  law,  but  a 
reparation  or  expiation  for  its  violation.  The  order  of  things 
disturbed  by  a  rebellious  will  is  again  re-established  by  the 
suffering  which  is  the  consequence  of  the  fault  committed. 
In  one  sense  it  may  be  said  that  punishment  is  the  remedy  for 
the  fault.  In  fact,  injustice  and  vice  being,  as  it  were,  the 
diseases  of  the  soul,  it  is  certain  that  suffering  is  their  remedy  ; 
but  only  on  condition  that  this  suffering  be  accepted  by  way 
of  chastisement.  It  is  thus  that  grief  has  a  purifying  virtue, 
and  that  instead  of  being  considered  an  evil,  it  may  be  called 
a  good. 

Another  confusion  of  ideas  which  shoukl  be  equally  avoided, 
and  which  is  very  common  among  men,  is  that  which  consists 
in  taking  the  reward  itself  for  a  good,  and  the  punishment  for 
an  evil. 

It  is  thus  that  men  are  often  more  proud  of  the  titles  and 


30  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

honors  thev  have  obtained,  than  of  the  real  merit  through 
Avhich  they" have  won  them.  It  is  thus  also  that  they  fear 
the  prison  more  than  the  crime,  and  shame  more  than  vice. 

It  is  for  this  reason  that  the  greatest   courage  is  needed  to 
bear  undeserved  punishment. 

We  distinguish  generally /oztr  species  of  sanction  : 
1.  Natural  sanction;  2,  legal  sanction;  3,  the  sanction  of 
vuhJic  opinion  ;  4,  inward  sanction. 

1.  Natural  sanction  is  that  which  rests  on  the  natural  con- 
sequences of  our  actions.  It  is  natural  for  sobriety  to  keep 
up  and  establish  health,  for  intemperance  to  be  a  cause  of 
disease.  It  is  natural  for  work  to  bring  with  it  ease  of  cir- 
cumstances, for  idleness  to  be  a  source  of  misery  and  poverty. 
It  is  natural  that  probity  should  insure  security,  confidence, 
and  credit ;  that  courage  should  put  off  the  chances  of  death ; 
that  patience  should  render  life  more  bearable ;  that  good-wdl 
should  call  forth  good-wiU  ;  that  wickedness  should  drive  men 
from  us;  that  perjury  should  cause  them  to  distrust  us,  etc. 
These  facts  have  ever  been  verified  by  experience.  ihe 
honest  is  not  always  the  useful ;  but  it  is  often  what  is  most 

useful.  . 

2  Ze^aZ  sanction  is  above  aU  a  i9e??r,Z  sanction,  it  is  com- 
posed of  the  chastisements  which  the  law  has  established  for 
the  cruilty.  There  are,  in  general,  few  rewards  estabhshedby 
the  Taw,  and  they  may  be  classed  among  what  is  called  the 

esteem  of  men.  _   . 

3  Another  kind  of  sanction  consists  in  the  opinion  other 
men  entertain  in  regard  to  our  actions  and  character.  We 
have  seen  that  it  is  in  the  nature  of  good  actions  to  inspire 
esteem,  in  the  nature  of  the  bad  to  inspire  blame  and  contempt. 
The  honest  man  generaUy  enjoys  public  honor  and  considera- 
tion. The  dishonest  man,  even  though  the  law  does  not 
reach  him,  is  branded  with  discredit,  aversion,  contempt,  etc. 

4  Finally,  a  more  exact  and  certain  sanction  is  that  which 
results  from  the  very  conscience  and  moral  sentiment  men- 
tioned  above. 


PRELIMIXAEY    XOTIOXS.  31 

16.  The  superior  sanction :  the  future  life. — These 
A'ariuus  sanctions  being  iusuliicient  to  satisfy  our  want  of 
justice,  there  is  required  still  another,  namely,  the  superior 
religious  sanction. 

It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  A'irtue  is  not  a  sufficient  shield 
to  protect  us  against  the  blows  of  adversity,'  and  that  im- 
morality does  not  necessarily  condemn  one  to  misery  and  grief. 
It  is  evident  that  a  man  corrupt  and  wicked  may  be  born  with 
all  the  advantages  of  genius,  fortune,  health ;  and  that  an 
honest  man  may  have  inherited  none  of  these. 

There  is  in  tliis  neither  injustice  nor  blind  chance  ;  but  it 
proves  that  the  harmony  between  moral  good  and  happiness 
is  not  of  this  world. 

In  regard  to  the  pleasures  and  pains  of  conscience,  it  is 
also  evident  that  they  are  not  sufficient.  In  fact,  the  pleasures 
of  the  senses  may  divert  and  deaden  the  pangs  of  remorse ; 
and  it  must  also  be  said,  though  it  be  still  more  sad,  that  it 
sometimes  happens  that  a  merciless  continuance  of  misfortune 
deadens  in  an  honest  soul  the  delight  in  virtue  ;  and  the  pain- 
ful efforts  which  virtue  costs  may  finally  obliterate  in  a  man, 
tired  of  life,  the  calm  and  sweet  enjoyment  Avhich  it  naturally 
brings  with  it. 

If  such  is  the  disproportion  and  disagreement  between  the 
inner  pleasures  and  pains,  and  the  moral  merit  of  him  Avho 
experiences  them,  what  shall  we  say  of  that  wholly  outward 
sanction  which  consists  in  the  rewards  and  punishments  dis- 
tributed by  the  unequal  justice  of  man?  I  do  not  speak  of 
legal  pains  alone ;  it  is  well  known  that  they  often  fall  upon 
the  innocent,  and  are  spared  to  the  guilty ;  that  they  are 
almost  always  disproportioned :  the  law  punishing  the  crime, 
without  taking  note  of  the  exact  moral  value  of  the  action  ; 
but  I  speak  also  of  the  pains  and  rewards  of  public  opinion, 
esteem,  and  contempt.  Are  these  always  in  an  exact  propor- 
tion to  merit? 

From  all  these  observations  it  results  that  the  law  of  har- 
mony between  good  and  happiness  is  not  of  this  world  ;  that 


32  ELEMENTS    01'    MORALS. 

there  is  always  disagreement,  or  at  least  disproportion,  between 
moral  merit  and  the  pleasures  of  the  senses.  Hence  the  neces- 
sity of  a  superior  sanction,  the  means  and  time  of  which  are 
in  the  hand  of  God. 

"  The  more  I  go  within  myself,"  says  a  philosopher,*  "  the 
more  I  consult  myself,  the  more  I  read  these  words  written- 
in  my  soul  :  he  just  and  thou  shalt  be  hapjnj.  And  yet  it  is 
not  so,  looking  at  the  actual  state  of  things:  the  wicked 
prosper,  and  the  just  are  oppressed.  See,  also,  what  indigna- 
tion arises  in  us  when  this  expectation  is  frustrated !  The 
conscience  murmurs  and  rebels  against  its  author  ;  it  cries  to 
him,  groaning :  Thou  hast  deceived  me  !  I  have  deceived 
thee,  oh  thou  rash  one  1  Who  has  told  thee  so  1  Is  thy  soul 
annihilated  1  Hast  thou  ceasetl  to  exist  1  Oh,  Brutus  !  oh,  my 
son,  do  not  stain  thy  noble  life  by  putting  an  end  to  it  •  do 
not  leave  thy  hopes  and  glory  with  thy  body  on  the  fields  of 
Pliilippi.  Why  sayest  thou :  Virtue  is  nothuig  when  thou 
art  now  about  entering  into  the  enjoyment  of  thine  ?  Thou 
shalt  die,  thinkest  thou  ;  no,  thou  shalt  live,  and  it  is  then  I 
sli^ll  keep  what  I  have  promised  !  One  would  say,  hearing 
the  murmurings  of  impatient  mortals,  that  God  owes  them  a 
reward  before  they  have  shown  any  merit,  and  that  he  is 
obliged  to  pay  their  virtue  in  advance.  Oh  !  let  us  iirst  ]>e 
good  ;  we  shall  be  happy  afterwards.  Do  not  let  us  claim  the 
prize  before  the  victory,  nor  the  salary  before  the  work.  '  It 
is  not  in  the  lists,'  says  Plutarch,  '  that  the  victors  in  our 
sacred  games  are  crowned;  it  is  after  they  have  run  the 
course.'  " 

*  *  J.  J.  Rousseau,  Emik. 


CHAPTER    II. 

DIYISIOIS"    OF    DUTIES— GEXERAL    PRINCIPLES    OF    SOCIAL 
MORALITY. 


SUMMARY. 

Division  of  duties. — In  theory  there  is  but  one  duty,  which  is  to  do 
right ;  but  this  duty  is  subdivided  according  to  the  various  relations 
of  man.  Hence  three  classes  of  duties  :  duties  towards  ourselves, 
towards  others,  towards  God  ;  individual,  social,  religious  morality. 
We  vdW  begin  with  social  morality,  which  requires  the  most  ex- 
pounding. 

General  principles  of  social  duties  :  to  do  good  ;  not  to  do  evil. 

Different  degrees  of  this  double  obligation:  1,  not  to  return  evil 
for  good  (itujratitud^)  ;  2,  not  to  do  e\'il  to  those  who  have  not  done 
us  any  (injustice  and  cruelty)  ;  3,  not  to  return  evil  for  evil  (revenge) ; 
4,  to  reixmn  gooilioT  good,  (gratitude) ;  5,  to  do  good  to  those  who 
have  not  done  us  any  (cliarity)  ;  6,  to  return  good  for  evil  (clemeiicy, 
generosity  ). 

Distinction  between  the  various  kinds  of  social  duties  :  1,  to- 
wards the  lives  of  other  men  ;  2,  towards  their  property  ;  3,  towards 
their  family  ;  4,  towards  their  honor  ;  5,  towards  their  liberty. 

Distinction  between  the  duties  of  justice  and  the  duties  of  charity. 

— Justice  is  absolute,  \vithout  restricrion,  without  exception.  Charity, 
although  as  obligatory  as  justice,  is  more  independent  iu  its  applica- 
tion. It  chooses  its  time  and  place  ;  its  objects  and  means  ;  its  beaidy 
is  in  Us  liberty. 

"We  have  seen  that  practical  morality  or  private  morality 
has  for  its  object  to  acquaint  us  with  the  application  of  theo- 
retical morality.  It  bears  not  so  much  on  duty  as  on  duties. 
The  first  question,  then,  that  presents  itself  to  us  is  that  of 
the  division  of  duties. 


34  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

17.  Division  of  duties. — It  lias  been  reasonably  asserted 
that  there  is  in  reahty  but  one  duty,  which  is  to  do  good 
under  all  circumstances,  the  same  as  it  has  also  been  said  that 
there  is  but  one  virtue  :  -wisdom,  or  obedience  to  the  laws  of 
reason.  But  as  these  two  general  divisions  teach  us  in  reahty 
nothing  touching  our  various  actions,  Avhich  are  very  numer- 
ous, it  is  useful  and  necessary  to  classify  the  principal  circum- 
stances in  which  we  have  to  act,  in  order  to  specify  in  a  more 
particular  manner  Avherein  the  general  principle  which  com- 
mands us  to  do  good  may  be  applied  in  each  case. 

Human  actions  may  then  be  divided,  either  in  regard  to  the 
different  beings  they  have  for  their  object,  or  in  regard  to  the 
various  faculties  to  which  they  relate. 

The  ancients  divided  morality  particularly  in  reference  to 
the  divers  human  faculties,  and  in  private  morality  they  con- 
sidered above  all  the  virtues. 

The  moderns,  on  the  other  hand,  have  divided  morality 
particulai-ly  in  its  relati-ons  to  the  different  objects  of  our 
actions  ;  and,  in  private  morahty,  they  have  considered,  above 
all,  the  duties. 

The  ancients  reduced  all  virtues  to  four  principal  ones : 
prudence,  temperance,  courage,  and  justice.  This  division  was 
transmitted  to  us,  and  it  is  these  four  virtues  which  the 
catechism  teaches  under  the  name  of  cardincd  virtues. 

The  moderns  reduced  duties  to  three  classes :  the  duties 
towards  ourselves,  towards  others,  and  towards  God.  Some 
add  a  fourth  plass,  namely,  duties  towards  cmivials. 

That  portion  of  morahty  which  treats  of  the  duties  towards 
ourselves,  is  called  individual  morality ;  that  which  treats  of 
the  duties  towards  God,  is  called  religious  morality;  that 
which  treats  of  the  duties  towards  other  men,  social  morality. 
As  to  the  duties  towards  animals,  they  are  of  so  secondary  an 
order,  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  classify  them  apart ;  we 
shall  include  them  in  social  morality. 

Social  morality  is  by  far  the  most  extended  in  precepts  and 
applications,  the  various  relations  of   men  with  each  other 


GENEEAL   PRlJfCIPLES    OF   SOCIAL    ilORALITT.  35 

being  extremely  numerous.  It  may  be  subdivided  into  three 
parts:  1,  general  duties  of  social  life,  or  morality  j^ra^jer/y/ 
called  social ;  2,  duties  towards  the  State,  or  civil  morality ; 
3,  duties  towards  the  family,  or  domestic  morality. 

"We  will  begin  with  the  study  of  social  morality,  .social 
duties  towards  men  in  general,  and  we  will  first  establish 
their  principles  and  different  varieties. 

Let  us  in  a  few  pages  rapidly  take  a  summary  review  of 
the  general  principles  of  social  morality. 

18.  General  principles  of  social  duties:  to  do  good,  not 
to  do  evil. — ^Ul  human  actions,  in  regard  to  others,  may  be 
reduced  to  these  two  precepts :  1,  to  do  good  to  men ;  2,  not 
to  do  them  harm.  To  this  all  the  virtues  of  social  morality 
may  be  reduced.  But  before  exhibiting  these  virtues  and 
vices  more  in  detail,  let  us  explain  what  is  understood  by  the 
expressions  to  do  good  and  to  do  evil. 

In  the  most  general  and  apparent  sense  to  do  any  one  good 
would  seem  to  be  to  give  him  pleasure ;  to  do  him  harm,  would 
seem  to  be  to  give  him  -pain.  Yet,  is  it  always  doing  good  to  a 
person  to  procure  him  pleasure  %  and  is  it  always  doing  him 
harm,  to  cause  him  pain?  For  example,  Kant*  says,  "Shall  we 
allow  the  idler  soft  cushions ;  the  drunkard  wines  in  abund- 
ance ;  the  rogue  an  agreeable  face  and  manners,  to  deceive  more 
easily;  the  violent  man  audacity  and  a  good  fist?"  Would 
it  really  be  doing  good  to  these  men  to  grant  them  the  object 
of  their  desires,  what  may  satisfy  their  passions?  On  the 
other  hand,  the  surgeon  who  amputates  a  mortified  limb,  the 
dentist  Avho  pidls  out  a  bad  tooth,  the  teacher  who  obliges 
you  to  learn,  the  father  who  corrects  your  faults  or  restrains 
your  passions,  do  the}'  really  do  you  harm  because  they  give 
you  pain  ?  No,  certainly  not.  There  are,  then,  cases  where 
to  do  some  one  good  is  to  cause  liim  pain,  and  to  do  him  harm 
is  to  procure  him  pleasure. 

One  may  reasonably  reduce  all  principles  of  social  morality 
to  these  two  maxims  of  the  gospel :  "  Do  not  do  to  others  what 

*  Kant,  Doctritie  de  la  vertu.    Frentj  translation  of  J.  Rami,  p.  171. 

-TATEf^URMALSCHOO 

ANGELES.  -:-  CAL. 


36  ELEMENTS    OF   MOKALS. 

you  do  not  wish  them  do  to  you;"— "Do  to  others  as  you 
wish  to  be  done  by."     These  two  maxims  are  admirable,  cer- 
tainly ;  but  they  must  be  interpreted  rightly.    If,  for  instance, 
Ave  have  done  wrong,  do  we  generaUy  wish  to  be  corrected 
and  punished?     When  we  are  yielding  to  a  passion,  do  we 
wish  to  be  repressed  in  it,  have  it  repelled  ?    On  the  contrary, 
do  we  not  rather  wish  to  be  allowed  to  enjoy  it,  and  have  the 
free  range  of  our  vices  1     Is  not  this  generally  what  we  aU 
wish,  when  the  voice  of  duty  is  mute  and  does  not  silence 
our  passionate  feelings?     If  this  is  so,  should  we  wish  to  do 
to  others  as  we  wish  in  similar  circumstances,  namely,  in  the 
gratification  of  passions,  to  be  done  by?  Should  we  not  rather 
do  to  them  what  we  should  not  like  them  do  to  us,  that  is, 
punish  and  correct  them?     It  is  evidently  not  in  that  sense 
we  are  to  understand  the  two  evangelical  maxims ;  for  they 
wonld  be  then  no  other  than  maxims  of  remissness  and  im- 
proper kindness ;  whilst  they,  on  the  contrary,  express  most 
admirably  a  moral  truth ;  only  when  they  speak  of  what  we 
wish,  they  mean  a  true  and  good  wish,  not  the  desires  of  pas- 
sion; the  same  when  we  recommend  men  to  do  good,  we  mean 
real  good  and  not  apparent  good;  as  also  in  recommending  to 
do  no  harm,  we  mean  real  harm,  not  the  illusory  harm  of  the 
senses,  imagination  and  passions. 

Thus,  to  well  understand  the  duties  we  have  to  fulfil  towards 
other  men,  we  must  understand  the  distinction  between  true 
good  and  false  good.  False  good  is  that  which  consists 
exclusively  in  pleasure,  all  abstraction  being  made  of  useful- 
ness or  moral  value;  as,  for  example,  the  pleasures  of  pas- 
sions. True  good  is  that  which  independently  of  pleasure 
recommends  itself  either  through  usefulness  or  through 
moral  value  ;  as,  for  instance,  health  or  education.  The  real 
evils,  of  course,  arc  those  which  injure  either  the  interests  of 
others  or  their  moral  dignity,  such  as  misery  or  corruption. 
Apparent  evils  are  those  which  cause  us  to  suff-er  but  a  mo- 
ment and  redeem  themselves  by  subsequent  advantages :  as, 
for  instance,  remedies  or  chastisements. 


GENERAL   PRINCIPLES   OF   SOCIAL   MORALITY.  3? 

^'Vllen  we  speak  of  good  in  regard  to  others,  we  should  not 
fear  to  understand  by  that  their  interest,  as  well  as  their  moral 
welfare;  for,  though  we  should  not  make  our  own  interest 
the  aim  of  our  actions,  it  is  not  so  in  our  relation  with  others. 
The  seeking  of  our  own  happiness  has  no  moral  value;  but 
the  seeking  of  other  people's  happiness  may  have  one,  pro- 
vided, we  repeat,  that  we  do  not  deceive  ourselves  touching 
the  real  sense  of  the  word  happiness,  and  that  we  do  not  un- 
derstand by  it  a  deceitful  and  short-lived  delight. 

"  To  do  to  others  as  'we  wish  to  be  done  by ;  not  to  do  to 
them  what  Ave  do  ?iot  wish  they  should  do  us,"  should,  there- 
fore, be  understood  in  the  sense  of  an  enlightened  will,  which 
wills  for  itself  nothing  but  what  is  truly  conformable  either 
to  a  proper  interest  or  to  virtue.  Thus  understood  (and  it  is 
their  true  sense*),  these  two  maxims  comprehend  perfectly 
the  whole  of  social  morality. 

19.  Different  degrees  of  this  double  obligation. — The 
sense  of  these  two  expressions,  to  do  good  and  to  do  harm, 
being  now  well-defined,  let  us  examine  the  various  cases  wliich 
may  present  themselves,  in  rising,  so  to  say,  from  the  lowest 
to  the  highest  round  of  duty.  Let  us  first  suppose  a  certain 
good  or  a  certain  evil,  which  will  not  vary  in  any  of  the  fol- 
lowing cases:  this  is  the  scale  one  may  observe  starting  from 
the  least  virtue,  to  which  corresponds  evidently  the  greatest 
vice  (by  virtue  of  the  principle  set  forth  abovef),  to  rise  to 
the  highest  virtue,  to  which  the  least  vice  corresponds. 

1.  J^ot  to  return  evil  fur  good. — This  is,  one  may  say  (all 
things  being  equal),  the  feeblest  of  the  virtues,  as  to  return 
evil  for  good  constitutes  the  greatest  of  wrongs.  Say,  for 
example,  homicide  :  is  it  not  evident  that  the  murder  of  a 
benefactor  is  the  most  abominable  of  all  ?  that  to  rob  a  bene- 
factor is  the  most  horrible  of  robberies  1  that  the  slander  of  a 
benefactor  is  the  most  criminal  of  slanders  1     On  the  other 

*  Kant  is  wrong  in  rejecting  these  two  maxims,  interpreting  them  in  the  seuso 
f  e  have  just  refuted. 
^  Chapter  I.,  page  22. 


38  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

hand  again,  not  to  kill,  not  to  steal,  not  to  slander,  not  to 
deceive  a  benefactor,  is  the  niinimuni  of  moral  virtue.  To 
abstain  from  doing  harm  to  him  who  has  done  you  good,  is  a 
wholly  negative  virtue,  which  is  simply  the  absence  of  a 
crime.  We  cannot  call  that  gratitude,  for  gratitude  is  a  posi- 
tive virtue,  not  a  negative  one ;  it  is  all  in  action,  and  not  m 
omission;  but,  befoi-e  being  grateful,  the  first  condition  at 
least,  is  to  be  not  ungrateful.  We  shaU  then  say  that  the 
greatest  of  crimes  is  inr/nditude.  It  is  by  reason  of  this  prin- 
ciple that  the  crimes  towards  parents  are  the  most  odious  of 
all ;  for  we  have  no  greater  benefactors  than  our  parents,  and 
without  mentioning  the  crimes  nature  finds  repugnant  enough, 
it  is  evident  that^  the  same  kind  of  harm  (wounds,  blows, 
insults,  negligence,  etc.)  will  always  be  more  blamable  when 
done  to  parents  than  to  any  other  benefactors,  and  to  bene- 
factors in  general,  than  to  any  other  men. 

2.  JVot  to  do  harm  to  those  tvho  have  not  done  iisany.—T\\e 
violation  of  this  maxim  is  the  second  degree  of  crime  and  of  sin, 
somewhat  less  serious  than  the  preceding  one,  but  still  odious 
enough  that  to  abstain  from  it  is,  in  many  cases,  a  rather 
feeble  virtue.  Not  to  kiU,  not  to  steal,  not  to  deceive,  not  to 
expose  one's  self  to  the  punishments  of  the  law,  are,  indeed, 
of  a  very  feeble  moral  value  ;  whilst  their  contraries  constitute 
the  basest  and  most  odious  of  actions. 

The  kind  of  vice  which  injures  others  without  provocation 
is  what  is  called  mjustke,  and  when  the  pleasure  of  doing 
wrong  is  joined  thereto,  it  is  called  cruelty.  Cruelty  is  an 
injustice  which  rejoices  in  the  harm  done  to  others ;  injustice 
contents  itself  with  taking  advantage  of  it.  There  is,  there- 
fore, a  higher  degree  of  evil  in  cruelty  than  in  injustice  pure 
and  simple. 

The  virtue  opposed  to  injustice  is  justice,  which  has  two 
degrees  and  two  forms:  the  one  negative,  which  consists 
simply  in  abstaining  from  doing  injury  to  anyone;  the  second 
positive,  which  consists  in  rendering  to  each  his  due.  This 
second  form  of  justice  is  more  difficult  than  the  first,  for  it  is 


GENERAL    PRINCIPLES   OF   SOCIAL   MORALITY.  39 

active.  It  is  more  difficivlt  to  restore  to  others  what  we  hohl 
as  our  own,  or  to  pay  one's  debts,  than  to  abstain  from  steahng; 
it  is  more  difficult  to  speak  well  of  one's  rivals,  than  to  abstain 
from  slandering  them  ;  it  is  more  difficult  to  give  up  one's 
position  to  another  who  deserves  it,  than  to  abstain  from  tak- 
ing his ;  and  yet  there  are  cases  where  justice  requires  one 
should  act  instead  of  simply  abstaining. 

3.  Not  to  return  evil  for  evil.  —  Here  we  rise,  in  some 
respect,  a  degree  in  the  moral  scale.  The  two  inferior  degrees, 
namely,  ingratitude  and  cruelty,  have  ahvays  and  everywhere 
been  considered  as  crimes.  Nowhere  has  it  ever  been  con- 
sidered allowable  to  do  harm  to  those  who  have  done  us  good. 
But  in  nearly  all  societies,  at  a  certain  degree  of  civilization, 
has  it  been  considered  allowable,  and  even  praiseworthy,  to 
return  evil  for  evil.  "  To  do  good  to  our  friends,  and  harm 
to  our  enemies,"  is  one  of  the  maxims  the  poets  and  sages  of 
Greece  oftenest  repeat.  Among  the  Indians  of  America,  glory 
consists  in  ornamenting  one's  dwelling  with  the  greatest 
possible  number  of  scalps  taken  from  conquered  enemies.  We 
know  about  the  Corsican  vendetta.  In  one  w^ord,  the  passion 
of  revenge  (which  consists  precisely  in  returning  evil  for  evil) 
is  one  of  the  most  natural  and  the  most  profound  in  the  human 
heart,  and  it  demands  a  very  advanced  moral  education  to 
comprehend  that  revenge  is  contrary  to  the' laws  of  morality. 
Now,  as  the  beauty  of  virtue  is  in  proportion  to  the  diffio^ilty 
of  the  passions  to  be  overcome,  it  is  evident  that  the  virtu».s 
contrary  to  revenge,  namely :  gentleness,  clemency,  pardon  of 
injuries,  are  amongst  the  most  beautiful  and  most  sublime. 
Already  among  the  ancients  had  morality  reached  this  maxim, 
that  one  should  not  do  any  harm,  namely,  even  to  those  who 
had  done  us  some,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  dialogue  of  Plato, 
entitled  the  Crito.  "  Socrates :  One  should  then  commit 
no    injustice    whatsoever?"       ''Crito:    No,    certainly    not." 

('>  Socrcdes  :  Then  should  one  not  be  unjust  even  towards  those 
who  are  unjust  towards  us." 
"^   4.   Thus  far  we  have  only  spoken  of  the  virtues  wliirh  ex- 


40  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

press  themselves  negatively,  and  which  consist  especially  in 
doin"  no  harm.  Let  us  now  consider  those  which  express 
themselves  affirmatively,  and  which  consist  in  doing  good.  The 
first  degree  is  to  return  good  for  good :  which  is  gratitude, 
the  contrary  of  which,  as  Ave  have  seen,  is  ingratitude  ]  but 
tliere  are  two  sorts  of  ingratitude,  as  there  are  two  sorts  of 
gratitude.  There  is  a  negative  ingratitude,  as  there  is  a  posi- 
tive ingratitude.  The  positive  ingratitude,  which  is,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  most  odious  of  all  crimes,  consists  in  returning 
evil  for  good  ;  negative  ingratitude  consists  simply  in  not 
returning  good  for  good,  namely,  in  forgetting  a  kindness. 
It  is  not  so  reprehensible  as  the  former,  but  it  has  still  a  certain 
character  of  baseness.  Gratitude  is  also  twofold  in  its  degrees 
and  forms  :  it  is  negative,  inasmuch  as  it  abstains  from  injuring 
a  benefactor;*  it  is  positive, inasmuch  as  it  returns  good  fo> 
good.  In  one  sense,  gratitude  is  a  part  of  justice,  for  it  con- 
sists in  returning  to  a  benefactor  what  is  due  him  ;  but  it  is 
also  a  notable  part,  and  one  Avhich  deserves  being  pointed  out, 
for  it  seems  that  there  is  nothing  easier  than  to  return  good 
for  good ;  and  experience,  on  the  contrary,  teaches  us  that  there 
is  nothing  more  rare.     [This  is  certainly  too  strongly  put.] 

5.  To  do  good  to  those  who  have  done  us  neither  good  nor 
harm.  This  is  what  is  called  charity,  which  is  a  degree  above  the 
preceding,  for  in  the  preceding  case  we  scarcely  do  more  than 
give  back  what  we  have  received  ;  in  this  case  we  put  in 
something  of  our  own.  But  to  characterize  this  new  degree 
of  virtue,  it  is  necessary  to  well  explain  that  the  question 
relates  to  a  good  that  is  not  dice.  For  justice,  we  have  seen, 
does  not  always  mean  to  abstain  from  evil  ;  it  even  does  good 

*  It  would  seem  here  that  negative  gratitude  becomes  confounded  with  negative 
ingratitude  ;  the  one  doing  no  liarm,  the  other  doing  no  good  ;  it  would  seem  as  one 
and  the  same  condition,  wherein  neitlier  harm  nor  good  is  done  ;  but  the  distinction 
exists  nevertheless  ;  for  the  question,  on  the  one  hand,  is  to  do  no  harm  when 
tempted  to  do  some,  and  on  the  other,  not  to  do  any  good  when  there  is  an  occasion 
for  it.  For  example,  he  who  despoils  others,  but  abstains  before  his  benefactor, 
experiences  a  certain  degree  of  gratitude,  and  lie  who  does  good  to  his  friends  and 
flatterers  around  him,  and  does  not  do  any  to  his  benefactor,  is  already  ungrateful. 


GENERAL    PRINCIPLES    OF    iLOCxAL   MORALITY.  41 

sometimes.  To  restore  a  trust  to  one  not  expecting  it ;  to  do 
good  to  him  who  deserves  it;  to  elect  to  a  position  one 
worthy  of  it ;  or,  wliat  is  still  more  heroic,  to  give  one's  own 
position  up  to  him,  this  evidently  is  doing  good  to  others,  and 
to  those  who  have  not  done  us  any ;  but  these  are  goods  diie, 
which  already  belong  in  some  respects  to  those  upon  whom 
we  confer  them.  It  is  not  so  with  the  goods  which  charity 
distributes.  The  gifts  I  make  to  the  poor,  the  consolations  I 
give  to  the  afflicted,  the  care  I  bestow  upon  the  sick,  all  of 
which  take  from  my  time,  my  interests,  and  my  life  which  I 
endanger  to  save  a  fellow-being,  are  also  goods  which  are  my 
own  and  not  his.  I  do  not  return  to  him  what  he  would 
otherwise  legitimately  possess,  whether  he  knows  it  or  not.  I 
give  him  something  of  my  own ;  it  is  a  pure  gift.  This  gift  is 
suggested  to  me  by  love,  not  by  justice.  The  contrary  of 
charity  or  devotion  to  others  is  selmliness. 

Finally,  there  is  a  last  degree  above  all  other  preceding 
degrees,  namely,  to  return  good  for  evil.  This  kind  of  virtue, 
the  highest  of  all,  has  no  particular  name  in  the  language. 
Charity,  in  fact,  consists  in  doing  good  generally,  and  com- 
prises the  two  degrees  :  to  do  good  to  the  unfortunate,  and 
return  good  for  evil.  Clemency  may  consist  in  simply  par- 
doning ;  it  does  not  necessarily  go  so  far  as  to  return  good  for 
evil. 

Corneille  might  as  well  have  called  his  tragedy  of  Cinna, 
the  Clemency  of  Augustus,  even  if  Augustus  had  merely 
pardoned  Cinna,  and  not  added  :  "  Let  us  be  friends!"  Thus 
has  this  great  and  magnificent  virtue  no  name,  and  as  science 
is  powerless  in  creating  words  suitable  for  every-day  language, 
it  must  rest  satisfied  with  periphrases.  Nevertheless,  this 
sublime  virtue  finds  nowhere  a  grander  expression  than  in 
those  maxims  of  the  Gospel :  "  You  have  been  told  that  it 
was  said  :  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  and  hate  thy  enemy  : 
But  I  say  to  you  :  Love  your  enemies  ;  do  good  to  those  that 
hate  you,  and  pray  for  those  that  despitefuUy  use  you  and 
persecute  you." 


42  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

20    Different  kinds  of  social  duties.— After  the  preceding 

division,  which  answers  to  the  different  degrees  of  obHgation 
which  may  exist  among  men,  there  is  another  classification 
which  rests  on  the  various  species  or  kinds  of  duties  winch  we 
may  have  to  perform  towards  our  fellow-bemgs.  Let  us  hrst 
briefly  state  what  will  be  developed  at  greater  length  m  the 

following  chapters.  i-       4.     4-1 

1    Duties  relating  to  the  life  of  others.— Accovdms  to  the 
two   maxims   cited   above,   these  duties  are  of    two  kinds : 
1   not  to  attempt  the  life  of  others;   2,  to  make  efforts  to 
save  the  life  of  others.     All  attempt  at  the  life  of  others  is 
caWed  homicide.     When  accompanied  by  perfidy  or  treason, 
it  is   assassi^icdion.     The  murder  of  parents  by  _  children  is 
called  pccrricide;    of  children  by  parents  (especially  at  the 
tenderest  age),  i^fa^iticide;  of  brothers  by  brothers, /r«^m-ui.. 
All  these  crimes  are  most  odious,  and  most  repugnant  to   he 
human  heart.     Murder  is  never  permitted,  even  when  the 
hic^hest  interest  and  the  greatest  good  is  at  stake.     Thus  did 
the  ancients  err  in  believing  that  the  murder  of  a  tyrant,  or 
tyrct^micide,  was  not  only  legitimate,  but  also  honorab  e  and 
beautiful.     However,  there  is  to  be  excepted  the  case  of  legiti- 
rnnte  self-defense  ;  for  we  cannot  be  forbidden  to  defend  ourselves 
against  him  who  wishes  to  deprive  us  of  life.     But  the  due 
should  not  be  considered  an  act  of  legitimate  self-defense  :  that 
is  evident  in  the  case  of  the  aggressor;  and,  on  the  other  side, 
there  is  only  the  defense  that  there  has  been  the  consent  to  be 
put  in  peril.     As  to  the  question  whether  an  attack  on  honor 
is  not  enuivalent  to  an  attack  on  hfe,  it  cannot  be  said  that  it 
is  false  in  all  cases  ;  but  the  abuse  of  the  thing  is  here  so  near 
the  principle,  that  it  is  wiser  to  condemn  altogether  a  barbar- 
ous practice,  of  which  so  deplorable  an  abuse  has  been  made 
Finally,  homicide  in  war,  within  the  conditions  authorized 
by  international  law,  is  considered  a  case  of  legitimate  self- 
defense.* 

'  These  questions  will  he  examined  more  in  detail  in  the  next  chapter. 


GENERAL   PRINCIPLES   OF   SOCIAL    MORALITY.  43 

If  murder  is  the  most  criminal  of  actions,  and  the  most 
revolting  to  our  sensibilities,  the  action,  on  the  contrary,  which 
consists  in  saving  the  life  of  others  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all. 
•  The  good  shepherd  gives  his  life  for  the  sheep." 

With  the  fundamental  duty  not  to  attempt  the  life  of  other 
men,  is  connected,  as  corollary,  the  duty  not  to  injure  them 
bodily  by  blows  or  wounds,  or  by  dangerous  violence  done  to 
their  health,  and,  conversely,  to  assist  them  in  illness. 

2.  Duties  relating  to  property. — It  is  evident*  that  man 
cannot  preserve  his  life  and  render  it  happy  and  comfortable 
without  a  certain  number  of  material  objects  which  are  his. 
The  legitimate  possession  of  these  goods  is  what  is  called 
property.^  The  right  of  property  rests  in  one  respect  on  so- 
cial utility,  and  in  the  other  on  human  labor.  On  the  one 
hand,  society  cannot  subsist  without  a  certain  order  that 
settles  for  each  what  is  his  own  ;  on  the  other,  it  is  but  right 
that  each  should  be  the  proprietor  of  what  he  has  earned  by 
his  work  ;  the  right  of  possession  carries  Avith  it  the  right  of 
economizing,  and,  consequently,  the  right  of  forming  a  capital, 
and,  moreover,  the  right  of  using  this  capital  in  making  it 
bear  interest.  Again,  the  right  of  preserving  implies  also  the 
right  of  transmission  ;  hence  the  legitimacy  of  inheritance. 

Property  once  founded  upon  law,  it  becomes  our  duty  not 
to  transgress  the  law.  The  act  of  taking  what  belongs  to  an- 
other is  called  theft.  Theft  is  absolutely  forbidden  by  the 
moral  law,  whatever  name  it  may  assume,  or  under  whatever 
prestige  it  may  present  itself.  "  Thou  shalt  not  steal. "  Theft 
does  not  consist  merely  in  putting  one's  hand  into  a  neigh- 
bor's pocket ;  it  includes  all  possible  ways  whereby  the  prop- 
erty of  others  may  be  appropriated.  For  example,  to  defraud 
in  regard  to  the  quality  of  the  thing  sold  ;  to  practice  illegal 
stock-jobbing  ;  to  convert  to  one's  own  use  a  deposit  entrusted 

♦  See  chapter  IV. 

t  Lawyers  make  a  distinction  between  ■possession  and  property.  The  first  consists 
simply  in  having  the  object  in  use  ;  the  second,  in  enjoying  its  exclusive  use,  even 
if  the  object  were  not  naturally  in  one's  hands. 


44  ELEMENTS   OE  MORALS. 

to  one's  care;  to  borrow  Avithout  knoAving  whether  one 
can  pay,  and  after  having  borrowed,  to  disown  the  debt,  or 
refuse  to  pay  it ;  there  are  as  many  forms  of  theft  as  there 
are  ways  of  appropriating  the  property  of  others. 

Kegarding  the  property  of  others,  the  negative  duty  then 
consist  in  not  taking  what  belongs  to  others.  The  positive 
duty  consists  in  assisting  others  with  one's  own  property,  m 
reheving  their  misery.  This  is  called  benevolence,  which  be- 
nevolence may  be  exercised  in  various  ways,  either  by  gift,  or 
by  loan.  It  may  also  be  exercised  in  kind,  that  is  in  giving  to 
others  the  objects  necessary  to  their  maintenance  or  support,  or 
in  money,  that  is,  in  furnishing  them  the  means  of  procuring 
them  ;  or  in  work,  which  is  the  best  of  all  gifts  ;  for  in  thus 
relieving  others  we  procure  them  the  means  of  helping  them- 
selves. 

With  the  duty  relating  to  the  property  of  others,  are  con- 
nected as  corollaries,  the  duties  relating  to  the  observance  of 
agreements  or  contracts ;  the  transmission  of  property  in  so- 
ciety being  not  always  done  from  hand  to  hand,  but  by  means 
of  promises  and  writings.  To  fail  in  keeping  one's  promise, 
to  pervert  the  sense  of  solemn  contracts,  is,  on  the  one  side, 
to  appropriate  other  people's  property,  and  on  the  other,  to  lie 
and  deceive,  and  thus  to  fail  in  a  double  duty. 

3.  Duties  relating  to  the  families  of  others.— We  have  seen 
above  what  are  the  duties  of  man  in  his  family  ;  there  re- 
mains to  be  said  a  few  words  touching  the  duties  towards  the 
families  of  others.  One  may  fail  in  these  duties  either  by 
violating  the  conjugal  bond,  which  is  adultery;  or  by  carry- 
ing off  other  people's  children,  which  is  abduction,  or  by  de- 
praving them  through  bad  advice  or  bad  examples,  which  is 
corruption.  . 

4.  Duties  relatiiig  to  the  honor  of  others.— One  may  fail  m 
these  duties,  either' by  saying  to  a  man  (who  does  not  deserve 
it),  wounding  and  rude  things  to  his  face,  which  are  insults, 
or 'in  speaking  ill  of  others;  and  here  we  distinguish  two  de- 
grees :  if  what  is  said  is  tnie,  it  is  backbiting  ;  if  what  is  said 


GENERAL   PRINCIPLES   OF   SOCIAL   MORALITY.  45 

is  false  and  an  invention,  it  is  slander.  In  general  one  must 
not  too  easily  ascribe  evil  to  other  men ;  this  kind  of  defect 
is  what  is  called  rash  judgments. 

The  j^ositive  duty  respecting  other  people's  reputation  is  to 
be  just  towards  every  one,  even  towards  one's  enemies ;  to 
speak  Avell  of  them  if  they  deserve  it,  and  even  of  those  Avho 
speak  ill  of  us.  It  is  a  duty  to  entertain  a  kindly  disposition 
towards  men  in  general,  provided  this  does  not  go  so  far  as  to 
wink  at  wrong.  In  our  relations  with  our  neighbors,  usage 
of  the  world  has,  in  order  to  avoid  quarrels  and  insults,  in- 
troduced what  is  called  politeness,  which,  for  being  a  worldly 
virtue,  is  not  the  less  a  necessary  virtue  in  the  order  of 
society. 

5.  Duties  towards  the  liberty  of  others. — These  are  rather 
the  duties  of  the  State  than  of  the  individual.  They  consist 
in  respecting  in  others  the  liberty  of  conscience,  the  liberty 
of  labor,  individual  liberty,  personal  responsibility,  all  of 
which  are  the  natural  rights  of  man.  However,  private  indi- 
viduals may  themselves  also  fail  in  this  kind  of  duties.  The 
violation  of  the  liberty  of  conscience  is  called  intolerance ;  it 
consists  either  in  employing  force  to  constrain  the  consciences, 
or  in  imputing  bad  morals  or  bad  motives  to  those  who  do  not 
think  as  we  do.  The  virtue  opposed  to  intolerance  is  toler- 
ance, a  disposition  of  the  soul  which  consists,  not  in  approv- 
ing Avhat  we  think  false,  but  in  respecting  in  others  what  we 
wish  they  should  respect  in  us,  namely,  conscience.  One  may 
also  violate  individual  liberty,  the  liberty  of  labor,  in  keeping 
one's  fellow-beings  in  slavery  ;  but  slavery  is  rather  a  social 
institution  than  an  individual  act.  However,  there  may  be 
cases  Avhere  one  may  seek  to  injure  other  jDcople's  wmk,  in 
restraining  others  by  threats  from  work  ;  which,  for  example, 
takes  sometimes  place  in  workmen's  strikes.  There  is  also  a 
certain  way  of  domineering  over  the  freedom  of  others  with- 
out restraining  it  materially,  which  constitutes  real  tyranny  ; 
it  is  the  dominion  wliich  a  strong  will  exercises  over  a  feeble 
will,  and   of  which  it  too  often  is  tempted  to  take  advantage. 


4^(3  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  duty,  not  only  to  respect  the  libeTty 
of  others,  but  also  to  encourage  it,  to  develop  it,  to  enlighten 

it  through  education. 

6    Drdies  relating  to  friendslup.-k\\i\^^  preceding  duties 
are  the  same  towards  all  men.       There  are  others  which  con- 
cern  more   particularly   certain  men,   those,  for  example,   to 
whom  we  are  attached  either  by  congeniality  of  disposition  or 
uniformity  of  occupation,  or  a  common  education,  etc.,  those, 
namely,  whom  we  call  friends.     The  duties  relating  to  friend- 
ship   are-    1,   to  choose    well  one's   friends;    to   choose  the 
honest,  and  enlightened,  in  order  to  find  in  their  society  en- 
couragement to  right-doing.       Nothing  more  dangerous  than 
pleasure-friends  or  interested  friends,  united  by  vices  and  pas- 
sions, instead  of  being  united  by  wisdom  and  virtue  ;    2   the 
friends  once  chosen,  the  reciprocal  duty  is  fidelity. _      They 
should  treat  each  other  with  perfect  equcdity  and  with  confi- 
dence      They  owe  each  other  secrecy  when  they  mutually 
entrust  their  dearest  interests ;    they  owe  each  other  self-devo- 
tion when  they  need  each  other's  help.     Finally,  they  owe  to 
each  other  in  a  more  strict  and  rigorous  a  sense,  all  they  gen- 
erally owe  to  other  men,  for  the  faults  or  crimes  against  hu- 
manity in   general  assume  a  still  more  odious  character  when 
against  friends. 

2i  Professional  duties  and  civic  duties.-Such  are  the 
general  duties  of  men  in  relation  to  each  other,  when  simply 
Viewed  as  men.  But  these  duties  become  diversified  and 
specialized  according  as  we  view  man  either  m  the  light  ot 
the  private  functions  he  fills  in  society,  which  are  hi^  profes- 
sional duties,  or  in  the  light  of  the  particular  society  of  which 
he  is  a  member,  and  which  is  called  the  State  or  the  country, 
and  these  are  the  civic  duties.     {See  chapters  xii.  and  xul) 

22  Distinction  between  the  duties  of  justice  and  the 
duties  of  Charity.-We  have  said  above  that  all  tlie  social 
duties  could  be  reduced  to  these  two  maxims:  "Do  not  do 
unto  others  what  you  do  not  wish  they  should  do  to  you.  Do 
to  others  as  you  wish  to  be  done  by."      These  two  maxims 


GENERAL   PRINCIPLES   OF   SOCIAL   MORALITY.  47 

correspond  with  what  is  callexl :  1,  the  duties  of  justice;  2, 
the  duties  of  charity. 

The  hrst  consists  in  not  doing  wrong,  or  at  least  in  repair- 
ing the  wrong  abeady  done.  Charity  consists  in  doing  good, 
or  at  least  in  giving  to  others  what  is  not  really  their,  due. 
A  celebrated  writer*  has  made  a  very  subtle  and  forcible  dis- 
tinction between  these  two  virtues  : 

"  The  respect  for  tlie  rights  of  others  is  called  justice.  All 
violation  of  any  right  whatsoever  is  an  injustice.  The  greatest 
of  injustices,  since  it  comprises  all,  is  slavery.  Slavery  is  the 
subjugation  of  all  the  faculties  of  a  man  for  the  benefit  of  an- 
other. Moral  personality  should  be  respected  in  yon  as  well 
as  in  me,  and  for  the  same  reason.  In  regard  to  myself  it 
has  imposed  a  duty  on  me ;  in  you  it  becomes  the  foundation 
of  a  right,  and  imposes  thereby,  relatively  to  you,  a  new  duty 
on  me.  I  owe  you  the  truth  as  I  owe  it  to  myself,  and  it  is 
my  strict  duty  to  respect  the  development  of  your  intelligence 
and  not  arrest  its  progress  towards  the  truth.  I  must  also 
respect  your  liberty  ;  perhaps  even  I  owe  it  to  you  more  than 
I  do  to  myself,  for  I  have  not  always  the  right  to  prevent  you 
from  making  a  mistake. 

"  I  must  respect  you  in  yoi:r  affections,  which  are  a  part  of 
yourself ;  and  of  all  tlie  affections  none  are  more  holy  than 
those  of  the  family.  To  violate  the  conjugal  and  paternal 
right  is  to  violate  what  a  person  holds  most  sacred. 

"  I  owe  respect  to  your  body,  inasmuch  as  belonging  to 
you,  it  is  the  instrument  of  your  personality.  I  have  neither 
the  right  to  kill  you  nor  to  wound  you,  unless  in  self-de- 
fense. 

"  I  owe  respect  to  your  property,  for  it  is  the  product  of 
your  labor ;  I  owe  respect  to  your  labor,  which  is  your  very 
liberty  in  action ;  and  if  your  property  comes  from  inherit- 
ance, I  owe  respect  to  the  free  will  which  has  transmitted  it 
to  you. 

*  Victor  Cousin,  The  True,  the  Beautiful,  and  the  Good  (lectures  xxi.  ami  xxi!.). 


48  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

'''"Justice,  tliat  is,  the  respect  for  the  person  in  all  that  con- 
stitutes his  personality,  is  the  first  duty  of  man  towards  his 
fellow-man.     Is  this  duty  the  only  one  1 

"  When  we  have  respected  the  person  of  others,  when  we 
have  neither  put  a  restraint  upon  their  liberty,  nor  smothered 
their  intelligence,  nor  maltreated  their  body,  nor  interfered 
with  their-  family  rights  nor  their  property,  can  we  say  that 
we  have  fulfilled  towards  them  all  moral  duties  1  A  wretch 
is  here  suffering  before  us.  Is  our  conscience  satisfied  if  '^e 
can  assure  ourselves  that  we  have  not  contributed  to  his  suf- 
ferings 1  No  ;  something  tells  us  that  it  would  be  well  if  we 
should  give  him  bread,  help,  consolation ;  and  yet  this  man 
in  pain,  who,  perhaps,  is  going  to  die,  has  not  the  least  right 
to  the  least  part  of  our  fortune,  were  this  fortune  ever  so 
o-reat ;  and  if  he  were  to  use  violence  to  take  a  farthing  from 
us,  he  would  commit  a  crime.  We  shall  meet  here  a  new 
order  of  duties  which  do  not  correspond  to  rights.  Man,  we 
have  seen,  may  resort  to  force  to  have  his  rights  respected, 
but  he  cannot  impose  on  another  a  sacrifice,  whatever  that 
may  be.     Justice  respects  or  restores  :  charity  gives. 

"  One  cannot  say  that  to  be  charitable  is  not  obligatory  ; 
but  this  obligation  is  by  no  means  as  precise  and  as  inflexible 
as  justice.  Charity  implies  sacrifice.  Now,  who  will  furnish 
the  rule  for  sacrifice,  the  formula  for  self-renunciation  ?  For 
justice,  the  formula  is  clear :  to  respect  the  rights  of  others. 
Eut  charity  knows  neither  rule  nor  limits.  It  is  above  all 
obligation.     Its  beauty  is  precisely  in  its  liberty." 

It  follows  from  these  considerations  that  justice  is  absolute, 
without  restriction,  without  exception.  Charity,  whilst  it  ig 
as  obligatory  as  justice,  is  more  independent  in  its  applica- 
tions ;  it  chooses  its  place  and  its  time,  considers  its  objects 
and  means.  In  a  word,  as  Victor  Cousin  says,  "  its  beauty  is 
in  its  liberty." 

Let  us  not  hesitate  to  borrow  from  the  Apostle  Rt.  Paul  his 
admirable  exaltation  of  charity  : 

"  Though  I  speak  with  the  tongues  of  ukmi  and  of  nngels,  and 


GENERAL    PRINCIPLES    OF    SOCIAL   MORALITY.  49 

have  not  charity,  I  am  become  as  sounding  brass  or  a  tinkling 
cymbal. " 

"  And  though  I  have  the  gift  of  prophecy,  and  understand 
all  mysteries,  and  all  knowledge,  and  though  I  have  all  faith, 
so  that  I  could  remove  mountains,  and  have  not  charity,  I  am 
nothing."* 

"  And  though  I  bestowed  all  my  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  and 
though  I  give  my  body  to  be  burned,  and  have  not  charity, 
it  profiteth  me  mothing." 

"  Charity  suffereth  long,  and  is  kind  ;  charity  envieth  not; 
charity  vaunteth  not  itself ;  is  not  puffed  it  p." 

"  Doth  not  behave  itself  unseemely  ;  seeketh  not  her  o^vn  ; 
is  not  easily  provoked ;  thinketh  no  evil." 

"  Beareth  all  things  ;  belie veth  all  things ;  endureth  all 
things."! 

*  Which  is  to  say  that  the  acts  are  nothing  if  the  heart  is  absent. 
•J  St.  Paul,  1  Cor.,  xiii.,  1-7. 


CHAPTER  III. 

DUTIES   OF   JUSTICE — DUTIES  TOWARDS   HUMAN   LIFE. 


SUMMARY. 

Division  of  the  duties  of  Justice. — Four  kinds  of  duties  :  1,  towards 
the  life  of  others  ;  2,  towards  the  liberty  of  others  ;  3,  towards  the 
honor  of  others  ;  4,  towards  the  property  of  others. 

Duties  towards  human  life. — Avoid  homicide,  acts  of  violence,  and 
mutilation.     Pascal  and  the  Provincialcs. 

The  right  of  self-defense. — Right  to  ojjpose  force  to  force.  Limits 
of  this  right. 

Problems. — Four  very  grave  problems  are  bound  up  in  the  question 
of  self-defense  :  1,  the  penalty  of  death  ;  2,  political  assassination  ; 
3,  the  duel  ;  4,  war. 

The  penalty  of  death. — The  penalty  of  death  is  the  right  of  self- 
defense  exercised  by  society  :  it  is  just  so  far  as  it  is  efficacious. 

Political  assassination.— Murder  is  always  a  crime,  under  whatever 
pretext  it  may  conceal  itself. 

The  duel. — The  duel  is  at  the  same  time  a  homicide  and  a  suicide;  it  is 
falsely  considered  justice,  since  it  appeals  to  chance  and  skill. 

War— War  is  the  only  mode  of  self-defense  existing  among  nations  ; 
it  is  desirable  for  the  sake  of  humanity  that  it  may  some  day  disap- 
pear ;  but  humanity  cannot  now  exact  this  sacrifice  of  the  country. 

23.  Division  of  social  duties. — According  to  the  fore- 
going distinctions,  we  will  first  divide  duties  into  duties  of 
justice  and  duties  of  charity. 

Let  us  begin  by  expounding  the  duties  of  justice. 

These  duties  may  be  summed  up  in  a  general  manner  in 
the  respect  fur  the  jjerson  of  others,  and  for  all  that  is  necessary 


DUTIES  TOWARDS   HUMAN    LIFE.  51 

for  the  preservation  and  development  of  that  person.      Hence 
four  kinds  of  duties  : 

1.  Towards  the  life  of  other  men. 

2.  Towards  their  liberty. 

3.  Towards  their  honor. 

4.  Towards  their  property. 

Besides  these  duties,  purely  negative,  which  consist  only  in 
doing  others  no  harm,  there  are  also  the  duties  of  justice, 
which  may  be  called  ijositive ;  and  which  consist  not  only  in 
not  injuring  others,  but  also  in  granting  each  what  he  has  a 
right  to.  This  is  called  distributive  or  remunerative  justice, 
and  is  the  duty  of  all  those  who  have  others  under  them,  and 
who  are  commissioned  to  distribute  rewards,  titles,  or  functions. 

24.  Duties  towards  the  life  of  men. — We  have  seen  above 
that  self-preservation  is  the  duty  of  every  one,  and  that  one 
should  not  attempt  one's  own  life,  nor  mutilate  one's  self,  nor 
injure  one's  health.  Now,  all  these  obligations  which  we 
have  towards  ourselves,  we  have  equally  towards  others ;  for 
that  which  each  owes  to  himself,  he  owes  it  to  his  quality,  as 
man,  to  his  quality  as  a  free  and  reasonable  being,  a  moral 
person.  It  is,  as  Kant  says,  humanity  itself  that  each  one 
must  respect  in  his  own  person  ;  and  it  is  also  humanity  which 
each  must  respect  in  others.  We  should  not  do  to  others 
what  we  do  not  wish  that  they  should  do  to  us,  or  what  we 
should  not  wish  to  do  to  ourselves.  Now,  no  one  wishes  others 
to  attempt  his  life  ;  no  one  should  wish  to  attempt  it  himself. 
For  the  same  reason  he  should  not  wish  to  attempt  the  life  of 
others. 

These  are  such  self-evident  considerations  that  it  is  useless 
to  insist  on  them.  Let  us  add  that  this  duty  rests,  besides, 
on  one  of  the  most  powerful  instincts  of  humanity,  the  instinct 
of  sympathy  for  other  men,  the  horror  of  their  sufferings,  the 
horror  of  spilt  blood.  Those  who  are  wanting  in  this  senti- 
ment are  like  monsters  in  the  midst  of  humanity. 

One  of  the  corollaries  of  this  principle  is  to  avoid  the  blows 
and   wounds    which  might,   through  imprudence  and   uncx- 


52  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

pectedly,  cause  death,  and  which,  besides  are  in  themselves 
0  be  condemned,  inasmuch  as  they  contribute,  .f  not  towa  ds 
destroying,  at  least  towards  mutilating,  the  person  and  render- 
ina  it\intitted  to  fulfil  its  duties  and  functions.  In  a  word, 
to^avoid  scuffles,  bodily  quarrels,  which  are  unworthy,  more- 
over, from  their  very  brutality,  of  a  reasonable  bemg ;  all  tli. 
is  comprised  in  the  duty  of  avoiding  homicide.  AU  may  be 
summed  up  in  these  words  of  the  Decalogue:      Thou  shalt 

'" ptscai,  in  his  letter  on  homicide  (xiv.  Pro..-«c/aZ.),  expressed 
most  eloquently  the  duty  concerning  the  respect  for  human 
life: 

.<  Everybody  kno^v-s,  my  fathers,  that  individuals  are  uover  permitted 
i^verjDoay  kuu>    ,      j  should  have 

preparing  to  murder  us,  to  roD  us  oi  uui  , 

death  would  not  be  listened  to  in  a  court  o  just,cc  So  *"  «J«; 
neee,s„y  to  establisl.  pttb.ic  foncttonanes  u^^^l.  '  "  \~,«^ 
the  king,  0,.  'f-;'  *;,nit?  1  Silmitted  alUhese 

i„te«,.lty  and  sn«ciency  have  l.en  ;-*-;  ,,/,-'C  t  :«-  «' 

be  atfected,  or  corrupted  by  anger.     In  short,  t  e>  can 
nnon  the  testimony  of  witnessses,    and  according  to  the  ot  lei   lornib 
p  escr  b  d  to\henf;  in  consequence  of  which  ^W  can  c„^^^^^^^^ 
pronounce  upon  him  only  according  to  law,  or  judge  .oithy  of  de.th 
only  those  whom  the  law  condemns. 

After  having  thus  expounded  the  innumerable  precautions 
."Ly  Iras  taken,'out  of  respect  for  human  life,  touching 
the  persons  of  criminals,  Pascal  continues  as  follows: 

«  Behold  in  what  way,  in  the  order  of  justice,  the  life  of  man  is  dis- 


DUTIES   TOWARDS    HUMAN    LIFE.  53 

posed  of ;  let  us  see  now  how  you  dispose  of  it*  In  your  new  laws 
there  is  but  one  judge,  and  this  judge  is  the  offended  party.  He  is  at 
the  same  time  judge,  accuser,  and  executioner.  He  seeks  himself  the 
death  of  his  enemy  ;  he  commands  it,  he  executes  him  on  the  spot ;  and, 
without  respect  for  either  the  body  or  soul  of  his  brother,  he  kills  and 
damns  him  for  whom  Christ  died  ;  and  all  this  to  avenge  an  attront, 
or  slander,  or  an  insulting  word,  or  other  similar  offences  for  which  a 
judge,  although  clothed  with  legal  authority,  would  be  considered  a 
criminal  if  he  should  condemn  to  death  those  who  had  committed 
them,  because  the  laws  themselves  are  very  far  from  condemning  them." 

Finally,  gathering  into  one  word  all  the  evils  which  homi- 
cide comprises,  Pascal  ends  by  saying  "  homicide  is  the  only 
crime  which  at  the  same  time  destroys  the  State,  the  Church, 
nature,  and  piety." 

25.  The  right  of  self-defense. — Xone  of  the  foregoing 
principles  would  present  the  shadow  of  a  difficulty  to  any 
except  those  who  are  nearer  the  brute  than  man,  if  it  were 
not  for  an  apparent  exception  to  the  rule,  which  is  the  case. 
of  legitimate  self-defense.  To  understand  properly  the  solu- 
tion of  this  question,  it  is  necessary  to  examine  carefully 
the  nature  of  the  relations  which  bind  men  to  each  other. 

Every  man  is  a  moral  j^^'i'son ;  that  is  to  say,  a  free 
being,  and  for  that  very  reason  inviolable  in  his  dignity 
and  in  his  rights.  He  is,  as  Kant  says,  an  end  to  him- 
self and  should  not  be  treated  as  a  means.  The  things  of 
nature  are  to  us  but  means  to  satisfy  our  wants ;  we  may 
therefore  mutilate  and  destroy  them,  not  as  our  whims  may 
dictate,  but  as  our  wants  require.  Thus  can  we  cut  the  finest 
trees  of  a  forest  to  make  fire  of,  or  for  furniture.  We  even 
claim  a  similar  right  over  animals,  although  it  may,  perhaps, 
not  be  so  evident.  But  we  have  no  such  right  over  man. 
We  can  neither  mutilate  nor  destroy  him  for  our  use. 

And,  in  fact,  to  ch'stroy  or  mutilate  through  sheer  force  a 
member  of  humanity,  is  to  apply  to  him  the  law  of  compulsion, 
which  is  the  law  of  physical  nature,  and  which  without  reserve 
* 

*  In  the  Provinciales  tliis  apostrophe  is  addressed  to  the  Jesuits,  whom  Pasc^il 
accuses  of  loose  maxims  on  tlie  suhject. 


54  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

aovems  all  physical  phenomena  :  it  is  to  make  of  man  a  thing 
If  nature,  to  see  in  him  the  body  only,  and  ignore  the  soul 

The  consequence  of  such  conduct  is  evident :  it  is  that 
whosoever  employs  against  another  the  law  of  compulsion 
means  thereby  that  he  does  not  recognize  between  himself  and 
other  men  any  other  law  but  that.  Treating  them  as  if  they 
were  purely  phvsical  agents,  he  gives  us  thereby  to  understand 
that  he  recognizes  himself,  and  expects  to  be  treated,  as  such  ; 
he  means  to  take  advantage  of  his  strength-as  long  as  he  is  the 
strongest,  but  gives  us  to  understand  thereby  that  he  is  satisfied 
to  submit  to  strength  if  he  is  the  weaker. 

It  is  here  that  the  right  of  self-defense  comes  in.     He  who 
is  violently  attacked,  has  the  right  to  oppose  to  violence  just 
as  much  strength  as  there  is  employed  against  him.     Other- 
wise, in  aUowing  himself  to  be  knocked  down  by  strength, 
he  would  consent  to  the  abasement,  to  the  suppression  of  his 
own  personality ;  he  woidd  in  some  respect  be  the  accomphce 
of  thfe  violence  he  is  made  to  suffer.     Some  Christian  sects, 
straining  this  point,  go  so  far  as  to  condeimi  absolutely  the 
richt  of  self-defense  ;  they  do  not  see  that  this  would  inf alhbly 
br°in-  with  it  the  triumph  of  brute  force,  and  the  suppression 
of  afl  justice.     Such  sects  may,  to  a  certain  extent,  manage  to 
exist  in  civilized  societies  ;  but  the  principle  is  self -destructive, 
since  not  to  resist  violence  is  in  some  respect  to  be  its  accom- 
plice. 

Yet  whilst  admitting  the  right  of  self-defense.  It  IS  necessary 

'      •       •+.  i;r..ifa       "This  accent"  savs  M.   Renouvier, 
to  recognize  its  limits.         mis  ageiii-,    oajo  . 

"  whom  the  right  of  self-defense  treats  as  a  brute,  this  being  is 
a  man,  nevertheless,  or  has  been  one,  or  may  become  such. 
Hence  the  doctrine  of  conscience  is  to  admit  this  right  only 
when  necessarv,  and  not  beyond  what  is  necessary.'  {Moral 
Scimce,  Ch.  lvi.)  This  is,  to  begin  with,  a  natura  conse- 
quence of  the  duties  towards  one's  self,since  it  is  already  a  sur- 
render of  one's  dignity  to  be  obliged  to  act  in  the  capacity  of 
a  phvsical  agent,  and  renounce  one's  character  of  a  moral  per- 
son/it  is  also  a  duty  towards  humanity  in  general,  which  is 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   HUMAN   LIFE.  55 

represented  by  every   man,  even  the   most  violent   and  the 
most  uncultivated. 

26.  Problems. — The  right  of  legitimate  self-defense  gives 
rise  to  a  certain  number  of  problems  relative  to  the  law  of 
homicide.  M.  Jules  Simon*  reduces  them  to  five :  homicide 
in  case  of  seK-defense,  penalty  of  death,  political  assassination, 
duel,  and  war.  In  the  first  case  it  is  implied  in  what  pre- 
cedes, that  legitimate  self-defense  may  go  so  far  as  to  deprive 
another  man  of  life  ;  but  only  in  case  of  absolute  necessity. 

There  remain  the  four  other  cases,  which  are  not  all  of  the 
same  order. 

27.  The  penalty  of  death. — The  penalty  of  death  in 
these  days  has  been  very  much  contested,  and  several  States 
have  tried  to  abolish  it.  f 

The  following  arguments  are  brought  to  bear  against  it : 

1.  The  inviolability  of  human  life. — The  State,  it  is  said, 
should  not  give  the  example  of  what  it  proscribes  and  punishes. 
Xow,  it  punishes  homicide  ;  then  it  should  not  itself  commit 
homicide. 

2.  The  possible  mistakes,  which  in  all  other  cases  can  be 
corrected,  but  which  in  this  case  alone  are  irreparable. 

3.  Experience,  which,  it  is  said,  tells  against  it  in  certain 
countries  by  proving  that  the  number  of  crimes  has  not  been 
increased  by  the  suppression  of  the  penalty  of  death. 

4.  Finally,  the  refinement  of  manners,  which  can  no  longer 
bear  the  idea  of  capital  punishment. 

Iso  one  of  these  arguments  is  wholly  decisive, 

1.  The  inviolability  of  human  life  is  not  an  absolute  thing, 
at  least  not  for  those  who  admit  the  right  of  legitimate  self- 
defense.     We  shall  examine  this  presently. 

2.  Judiciary  mistakes  are  very  rare,  and  will  become  more 

*  Le  Devoir.     Part  iv.,  Ch.  iii. 

t  In  Tuscany  the  penalty  of  death  was  abolished  in  the  eighteenth  century  by  the 
Grand  Duke  Leopold.  It  was  again  established  witli  the  Grand  Duch/s  annexation 
to  the  Kingdom  of  Italy.  In  Switzerland,  after  being  abolished  by  the  Confeder- 
ation, the  penalty  of  death  was  finally  left  to  be  determined  by  each  particular  can- 
ton. 


56  ELEMKXTS    OF    MORALS. 

and  more  so,  as  justice  becomes  more  respectful  towards  the 
rights  of  the  accused,  and  tlirough  greater  publicity,  by  the 
intervention  of  a  jury,  etc, 

3.  Experience  is  not  so  much  of  a  test  as  it  is  said  to  be,  and 
is  often  made  on  too  small  a  scale.  The  attempts  at  abolition 
have  not  been  very  numerous.  In  Tuscany  murders  have 
always  been  very  rare  on  account  of  the  gentleness  of  man- 
]iers.  In  Switzerland,  on  the  contrary,  crime  is  on  the  in- 
crease, and  certain  cantons  have  asked  for  a  return  to  the  death 
penalty.  Besides,  it  is  a  very  difficult  experiment  to  make. 
How  could  a  society  as  complicated  as  ours  dare  to  trust  its 
security  to  so  hazardous  an  experiment  1 

4.  The  refinement  of  manners  may  gradually  bring  about, 
thanks  to  the  institution  of  the  jury,  the  diminution,  perhaps 
some  day  the  suppression,  of  the  penalty  of  death,  without  its 
being  necessary  for  the  State  to  lay  aside  this  powerful  means 
of  defense  and  intimidation. 

The  ]>enalty  of  death,  in  fact,  can  be  considered  legitimate 
only  in  the  light  of  the  right  of  self-defense.  If  society  needs 
this  penalty  to  protect  the  life  of  its  members,  it  may  be  said 
that  it  is  authorized  to  use  it,  on  the  same  ground  as  each  in- 
dividual to  whom  we  have  conceded  the  right  to  repel  force 
by  force,  and  to  deprive  of  his  own  life  one  who  shoidd 
threaten  to  take  his  life. 

But,  it  will  be  objected,  the  right  of  self-defense,  when  end- 
ing in  homicide,  is  justifiable  only  at  the  moment  of  the  attack, 
and  to  ward  off  a  sudden  aggression  itself  threatening  murder ; 
but  the  deed  once  committed  and  the  criminal  in  the  hands  of 
the  laAv,  there  is  no  reason  to  fear  a  new  aggression  from  him, 
and  his  chances  of  escape  from  justice  through  evasion  are  too 
few  to  justify  the  violation  of  a  duty  so  absolute  as  the  re- 
spect for  human  life. 

It  may  be  answered  that  society,  by  the  death  penalty,  not 
only  defends  itself  against  the  criminal  himself,  but  against 
all  those  who  might  be  inclined  to  imitate  him.  The  penalty 
of  death  is  above  all  a  precautionary  means  of  defimse,  that 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   HUMAN    LIFE.  57 

is  to  say,  a  means  of  intimidation.  The  future  criminal  is 
warned  heforeliand  of  the  risks  lie  runs ;  he  accepts  volun- 
tarily the  punishment  he  will  incur.  If  society  should  catch 
him  in  the  aci^flagrante  delicto — it  would  certainly,  in  order 
to  prevent  the  crime,  since  it  is  the  representative  of  all  indi- 
viduals, have  the  same  rights  as  the  individual  of  defending 
himself.  But  the  difficulty  of  seizing  upon  the  criminal  at  the 
moment  of  commission,  can  it  be  considered  a  circumstance 
in  favor  of  the  criminal,  and  does  society  lose  its  right,  be- 
cause, through  the  skill  and  precautions  of  assassins,  it 
can  but  very  rarely,  and  scarcely  ever,  catch  them  in  tlie 
act? 

The  right  of  society  to  defend  itself  by  the  death  penalty 
does  not  seem  to  us,  then,  to  admit  any  doubt.  The  whole 
question  is  to  know  whether  such  a  means  of  defense  is  really 
necessary  and  efficacious.  It  is,  as  as  we  have  said,  a  question 
of  experience  which  it  is  very  difficult  to  settle,  for  the  rea- 
son that  we  dare  not  make  the  experiment.  All  that  can  be 
said  is  that,  as  a  principle,  every  man  fears  death ;  it  is  the 
greatest  of  fears.  There  is,  therefore,  reason  to  believe  that 
it  is  the  most  powerful  of  the  means  of  intimidation.  Be- 
sides, it  is  known  that  professional  criminals  estimate  with 
great  accuracy  offenses  and  crimes  proportionably  to  their 
penalties.  Thus,  those  who  steal  know  that  they  expose 
themselves  to  such  or  such  punishment,  but  they  go  no  far- 
ther in  order  not  to  incur  a  more  severe  punishment ;  for 
these  the  penalty  of  death  is  certainly  a  great  item  in  their 
plans,  and  it  would  be  dangerous  to  relieve  them  of  this 
menace. 

We  do  not  mean  to  say  that  in  future  society  may  not 
reach  a  state  of  organization  strong  and  enlightened  enough  to 
be  able  to  do  without  such  means ;  but  in  the  present  state  of 
things  we  shoxild  consider  the  attempt  to  abolish  them  danger- 
ous for  society. 

28.  Of  political  assassination.— Concerning  this  pre- 
tended right,   so   shockingly   promulgated  in  these  days  by 


58  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

savage  factions,  we  cannot  do  better  than  quote  the  words  of 
M.  Jules  Simon  in  his  book  on  Duty  : 

"  Political  assassination,"  he  says,  "  is  essentially  worthy  of  condem- 
nation from  whichever  side  one  looks  at  it.  It  has  the  same  origin  as 
the  penalty  of  death,  with  this  double  difference  that,  in  the  applica- 
tion of  the  penalty  of  death,  it  is  the  State  that  pronounces  the  sentence 
conformably  to  the  law,  whilst  in  political  assassination  it  is  the  same 
man  who  makes  the  law,  pronounces  the  sentence,  and  executes  it. 
Now,  society,  though  badly  constituted,  and  the  law,  though  bad,  are 
nevertheless  a  guaranty,  whilst  there  is  none  at  all  against  the  caprice, 
passion  or  false  judgment  of  a  single  individual.  Besides,  the  legiti- 
macy of  the  penalty  of  death  is  connected  with  the  legitimacy  of  the 
power  that  pronounces  it,  and  the  uniformity  of  the  law.  Let  some 
tyrannical  authority  cause  a  man  to  be  shot  at  the  corner  of  a  street, 
without  form  of  legal  process,  that  cannot  be  called  penalty  of  death  ; 
it  is  called  murder  ;  and  even  when  the  victim  should  have  deserved 
his  death,  the  government  would  not  be  the  less  criminal  for  having 
executed  him  without  trial.  If  these  principles  are  just,  how  can  we 
admit  the  theory  of  political  assassination,  which  allows  the  destiny  of 
all  to  depend  upon  the  conscience  of  a  single  individual.  We  reflect  so 
little  upon  the  rights  of  men  that  there  are  those  who  will  condemn  the 
death  penalty  and  yet  approve  of  political  assassination.  We  judge  so 
badly,  that  under  the  Restoration  a  monument  was  erected  to  Georges 
Cadoudal,  and  we  hear  every  day  the  eulogy  of  Charlotte  Corday.  The 
guiltiness  of  the  victim  does  not  legitimate  the  act  of  the  murderer. 
It  is  both  unwise  and  criminal  to  furnish  hatred  with  such  excuses." 

29.  The  duel. — Does  the  duel  come  under  the  head  of 
legitimate  self-defense  ?  Xo  ;  whatever  custom  and  prejudice 
may  say  in  its  favor. 

1.  We  must  first  lay  aside  without  discussion  all  duels 
bearing  on  frivolous  causes,  and  they  are  the  largest  in  num- 
ber. 

2.  In  many  other  cases  reparation  may  be  obtained  through 
the  laAv,  and  prejudice  alone  can  prevent  having  recourse  to 
it.  If  I  am  willing  to  have  recourse  to  law  in  a  case  of  rob- 
bery, why  should  I  not  appeal  to  this  same  law  when  my 
honor  is  attacked  ? 

3.  The  duel  is  an  absurd  form  of  justice,  because  it  puts 


DUTIES  TOWARDS   HUMAN   LIFE.  59 

the  offender  and  the  one  offended  on  the  same  level.     It  is 
not  the  guilty  one  that  is  punished ;  it  is  the  awkward  one. 

4.  Social  justice  has  degrees  of  penalty  in  proportion  to  the 
gravity  of  the  offense,  and  is  applied  only  aftei  a  very  severe 
examination.  The  aim  of  the  duel  is  to  apply  to  very  un- 
equal offenses  one  and  the  same  i^enalty,  death  (Jules  Simon, 
Le  Devoir,  IV.),  or  if  there  are  any  degrees,  since  it  does  not 
always  result  in  death,  these  degrees  are  the  effect  of  chance. 
Finally,  if  in  a  duel  the  parties  agree  to  use  skill  enough  to 
hurt  each  other  as  little  as  possible,  is  it  not  as  if  they  con- 
fessed to  the  injustice  and  insanity  of  the  proceeding  ? 

5.  The  duel  had  its  origin  in  suj^ierstition  :  in  the  Combat 
of  God,  in  the  belief,  namely,  that  God  himself  would  arbi- 
trate by  means  of  the  combat,  and  give  the  victory  to  the  in- 
nocent and  strike  the  guilty. 

6.  The  duel  is  a  homicide  or  a  suicide.  It  is,  therefore, 
contrary  to  the  duty  towards  others  and  the  duty  towards  our- 
selves. Finally,  the  duel  is  contrary  to  the  duty  towards  so- 
ciety, which  forbids  each  to  be  his  own  judge. 

J.  J.  Rousseau,  in  the  Nouvelle  Heloise,  has  written  on  the 
duel  and  suicide  (see  further  on.  Chapter  xi.,)  a  letter  often 
quoted,  of  which  w*e  will  briefly  give  the  principal  passages. 

1.  One  must  distinguish  between  real  honor  and  apparent 
honor : 

What  is  there  in  common  between  the  glory  of  killing  a  man  and  the 
testimony  of  a  righteous  soul  ?  What  hold  can  the  vain  opinion  of 
others  have  upon  tnio  honor,  the  roots  of  which  are  in  the  depths  of  the 
heart  ?  What !  the  lies  of  a  slanderer  can  destroy  real  virtues  ?  Do  the 
insults  of  a  drunkard  prove  that  one  deserves  them  ?  And  can  the 
honor  of  a  sensildc  man  l>e  at  the  mercy  of  the  first  niffian  he  meets  ? 

2.  The  use  of  force  cannot  be  a  title  to  virtue : 

Will  you  tell  me  that  one  must  show  courage,  and  that  courage  suf- 
fices to  efface  the  shame  and  reproach  of  all  other  vices  ?  In  this  case 
a  rogue  would  have  but  to  fight  a  duel  to  cease  to  be  a  rogue  ;  the  words 
of  a  liar  would  become  true  if  maintained  at  the  point  of  a  sword  ;  and 
if  you  were  charged  with  having  killed  a  man,  you  wo'jld  go  and  kill  a 


60  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

second  one  to  prove  that  the  charge  is  not  true.  Thus,  virtue,  vice, 
honor,  infamy,  tmth,  falsehood,  all  derive  their  being  from  the  event 
of  a  fight ;  a  fencing-hall  becomes  the  seat  of  all  justice  ;  might  makes 
right. 

3.  Antiquity,  so  rich  in  heroes  and  great  characters,  knew 
nothing  of  the  duel.  There  may  tlien  exist  societies  civilized 
and  refined  where  a  man  may  defend  his  honor  without  having 
to  resort  to  the  duel.  This  is  a  remarkably  striking  argu- 
ment :* 

Did  ever  the  valiant  men  of  antiquity  think  of  avenging  their  per- 
sonal insults  by  single  combats  ?  Did  Ceesar  send  a  challenge  to  Cato 
or  Pompey  to  Ceesar  ?  "  Other  times,  other  manners,  you  11_  say,  i 
know,  but  true  honor  does  not  vary  ;  it  does  not  depend  on  times  or 
places  or  prejudices  ;  it  can  neither  pass  away  nor  be  born  again;  it  has 
Its  eternal  source  in  the  heart  of  the  just  man  and  m  the  unalterable 
rule  of  his  duties.  If  the  most  enlightened,  the  bravest  the  most  vir- 
tuous nations  of  the  earth  knew  nothing  of  the  duel,  I  say  that  it  is 
not  an  institution  of  honor,  but  rather  a  frightful  and  barbarous  fashion 
worthy  of  its  savage  origin. 

4.  It  is  not  true  that  a  man  of  honor  incurs  contempt  by 

refusing  a  duel : 

The  righteous  man  whose  whole  life  is  pure,  who  never  gave  any  sign 
of  cowardice,  will  refuse  to  stain  his  hand  by  a  homicide,  and  will  be 
only  the  more  honored  for  it.  Always  ready  to  serve  his  country,  to 
p  Ject  the  feeble,  to  fulfil  the  most  dangerous  duties,  and  defend  in  al 
just  and  honest  encounters,  and  at  the  price  ot  his  blood,  what  he  ho  ds 
dear  he  will  reveal  in  all  his  transactions  that  resolute  firmness  which 
always  accompanies  true  courage.  In  the  security  o  lus  conscience  he 
walks  with  head  erect ;  he  neither  flies  from  nor  seeks  his  enemy  on 
ean  easily  see  that  he  fears  less  to  die  than  to  do  wrong,  and  that  it  ,s 
not  danger  he  shuns,  but  crime. 

30    War  —War  is  the  most  serious  and  the  most  solemn 
exception  to  the  law  which  forbids  homicide.     Not  only  does 

*  It  answers  the  frequent  assertion  that  the  courtesy  and  r«f'-''-;:;^;:^'' '";"";;! 
each  other  reciprocally,  would  soon  disappear  if  they  were  not  protected  by  the  re 
source  of  the  duel. 


DUTIES   TOWARDS    HUMAN    LIFE.  61 

it  permit  homicide,  but  it  commands  it.  The  means  thereto 
are  prepared  in  public  ;  the  art  of  practicing  them  is  a  branch 
of  education,  and  it  is  glorious  to  destroy  as  many  enemies  as 
possible. 

One  cannot  fail  to  see  the  sad  side  of  war,  and  how  contrary 
it  is  to  the  ideal  tendencies  of  modern  society.  It  is  still  to 
be  hoped  that  there  will  come  a  time  when  nations  will 
find  a  more  rational  and  more  humane  means  of  conciliating 
their  differences.  But  there  is  no  indication  of  this  good  time 
as  yet,  nor  even  that  it  is  near,  and  it  is  necessary  to  guard 
against  a  false  philanthropy,  which  would  imperil  the  sacred 
rights  of  patriotism. 

The  problem  of  war  in  itself  belongs  rather  to  the  law  of  na- 
tions than  to  morality  properly  so  called.  It  will  be  in  studying 
late?  the  relations  of  the  nations  between  each  other  that  we 
shall  have  to  establish  as  a  rule  that  the  right  of  self-defense 
exists  for  them  as  well  as  for  the  individual.  The  only  ques- 
tion in  a  moral  point  of  view  is  to  know  whether  the  indi- 
vidual, by  the  sole  fact  of  the  order  of  society,  is  released 
from  the  duty  imposed  on  him  not  to  shed  blood.  Some  re- 
ligious sects  in  the  early  times  of  Christianity,  others  in 
modern  times  in  England  and  in  America  (the  (Quakers),  be- 
lieve that  the  interdiction  of  homicide  is  an  absolute  thinff : 
they  claim  the  right  to  be  exempt  from  military  duty.  The 
State,  of  course,  never  recognized  the  legitimacy  of  such  a 
scruple,  which  would  prevent  all  social  subordination  and  de- 
prive the  defense  of  the  country  of  all  its  strength.  But 
neither  does  morality  recognize  such  a  right.  As  a  part  of  a 
society  which  is  commissioned  to  defend  us,  and  which  can 
do  so  only  by  using  force,  it  is  evident  that  each  one  should 
share  in  the  acts  by  which  it  undertakes  to  defend  us.  For 
how  can  malefactors  be  prosecuted  without  employing  force? 
The  same  may  be  asked  as  to  enemies  from  without.  IS'ow,  as 
society  defends  every  one  equally,  it  cannot  make  any  excep- 
tion in  favor  of  such  or  such  scruple.     It  can  grant  exemp- 


62 


TLEMEIN'TS    OF    MORALS. 


tions,  but  cannot  admit  that  eacli  should  exempt  himself  by 
the  scruples  of  his  conscience. 

Certainly  it  ought  not  to  be  maintained  that  any  order  given 
by  society  releases  the  individual  conscience  from  all  consider- 
ation But  obedience  to  the  law  is  the  foundation  of  social 
order,  and  co-operation  in  the  public  defense  is  a  duty  of  ab- 
solute necessity.  Of  course  one  assumes  in  this  view  im- 
plicitly the  legitimacy  of  war  ;  but  this  question  will  be 
treated  later  on  by  itself,  and  in  accordance  with  the  reasons 
belonging  to  it. 


CHAPTER    ly. 

DUTIES  CONCEEJS"I]SrG   THE    PEOPEKTY   OF   OTHERS, 


SUMMARY. 

Of  property. — Its  fundamental  ininciple  ;  work  sanctioned  by  law. 
Coininunistic  Utopia. — Inequality  of  wealth  :  it  is  founded  on  nature, 
but  should  not  be  aggravated  by  the  law. — Different  forms  of  the 
rights  of  property  :  loans,  trusts,  things  lost,  sales,  i^^'op*^''^])  P^operhj 
so  called. 

Loan. — Is  it  a  duty  to  loan  ? — The  interest  of  money. — Tlie  question  of 
usury. —Duties  oi  creditor  and  debtor. — Failures  an<l  bankruptcies. — 
Tlie  commodate  or  things  loaned  for  use. 

Trust. — Duties  of  the  depositary  and  the  deponent. 

Of  the  possession  in  good  faith. — The  thing  lost. 

Sales. — Obligations  of  seller  and  buyer. 

Of  property  in  general. — Violation  of  property  or  theft. — The  ele- 
ments which  constitute  theft. — Simple  thefts  and  qualified  thefts. — ■ 
Abuse  of  confidence,  swindling. — Restitution. 

Promises  and  contracts. — Differences  between  these  two  facts. — Strict 
obligation  to  keep  one's  promises  :  rare  exceptions  (practical  impos- 
sibility, illicit  promises,  etc.) — Different  kinds  of  contracts. — Condi- 
tions of  the  contract :  consent,  capacity  of  contracting  parties,  a  real 
object,  a  licit  cause. —Rules  for  the  formation  of  contracts.— Rules 
for  the  interpretation  of  contracts. 

The  immediate  consequence  of  the  right  of  self-preservation 
which  eacli  lias,  etc.,  implies  the  rujM  of  property. 

31.  Property. — A^^lat  is  property?  ^Miat  is  its  or'vj^m  and 
principle?     What  objections  has  it  raised  ?     What  moral  and 


64  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

social  reasons  justify  it,  rendering  its  maintenance  both  sacred 
and  necessary  1 

"  Property,"  says  the  civil  code,  "  is  the  right  to  enjoy  and 
dispose  of  tilings  in  the  most  absolute  manner,  provided  no  use 
is  madeof  them  prohibited  by  the  lawsor  the  rules."    (Art.  544.) 

"The  right  of  property,"  says  the  Constitution  of  '93,  "  is 
that  which  belongs  to  every  citizen  :  to  enjoy,  and  dispose  at 
will  of  his  property,  his  income,  of  the  fruit  of  his  labor  and 
industry."     (Art.  8.) 

These  are  the  judicial  and  political  definitions  of  property. 
Philosophically,  it  may  be  said,  that  it  is  the  right  each  man 
has  to  make  something  Ms  own,  that  is  to  say,  to  attribute  to 
liimself  the  exclusive  right  to  enjoy  something  outside  of 
himself. 

We  must  distinguish  between  jMssession  and  jjroim^ty. 
Possession  is  nothing  else  than  actual  custody  :  I  may  have  m 
my  hands  an  object  that  is  not  mine,  which  has  either  been 
loaned  to  me,  or  which  I  may  have  found  ;  this  does  not  make 
me  its  proprietor.  Property  is  the  right  I  have  to  exclude  all 
others  from  the  use  of  a  thing,  even  if  I  should  not  be  in 
actual  possession  of  it. 

32.  Origin  and  fundamental  principle  of  property.-^ The 
first  property  is  that  of  my  own  body,  but  thus  far  it  is  nothing 
else  than  what  may  be  called  corporeal  liberty.  How  do  we 
go  beyond  that  1  How  do  we  extend  this  primitive  right 
over  things  which  are  outside  of  ourselves  ? 

Let  us  first  remark  that  this  right  of  appropriating  external 
things  rests  on  necessity  and  on  the  laws  of  organized  beings. 
It  is  evident,  in  fact,  that  life  cannot  be  preserved  otherwise 
than  by  a  perpetual  exchange  between  the  parts  of  the  living 
body  and  tlie  particles  of  the  surrounding  bodiea  Kutritiou 
is  assimilation,  and,  consequently,  approjjriation.  It  is,  then, 
necessary  that  certain  things  of  the  external  world  should  be- 
come mine,  otherwise  life  is  impossible. 

Property  is  then  necessary  ;  let  us  nov/  see  by  what  means 
it  becomes  legitimate. 


DUTIES  CONCERNING  THE  IROPERTY  OF  OTHERS.         65 

Property  lias  been  given  several  origins :  occupation,  luir, 
work.  According  to  some,  property  has  for  its  fundameniai 
principle  the  rijht  of  the  first  occupant.  It  is  said  that  man 
has  the  right  of  appropriating  a  thing  not  in  possession  of 
some  one  else ;  the  same  as  at  the  theatre,  the  spectator  who 
comes  first  has  the  right  to  take  the  best  place.  (Cicero.)  So 
be  it ;  but  at  the  theatre  I  occupy  only  the  place  occupied  by 
my  own  body  ;  I  liave  not  the  right  to  appropriate  the  whole 
theatre,  or  even  the  pit.  It  is  the  same  with  the  right  of  the 
first  occupant.  - 1  have  certainly  a  right  to  the  place  my  own 
body  would  occupy,  but  no  further  :  for  where  would  my 
right  then  stop  ? 

*'  Will  the  setting  one's  foot,"  says  J.  J.  Rousseau,  "  on  a  piece  of  com- 
mon ground  be  sufficient  to  declare  one's  self  at  once  the  masterof  it?  When 
Xunez  Balboa  took  ou  landing  possession  of  the  Southern  Sea,  and  of 
the  whole  of  Southern  America  in  the  name  of  the  Crown  of  Castile, 
was  that  enough  to  exclude  from  it  all  the  princes  of  the  world  ?  At 
that  I'ate  the  Catholic  king  had  but  to  take  all  at  once  possession  in  liis 
stud}'  of  the  wliole  universe,  relying  upon  subsequently  strikiiig  olf 
from  his  empire  what  before  was  in  possession  of  the  other  princes.'' 
(Contrat  social,  liv.  ler,  Ch.  ix. ) 

The  law. — If  occupation  of  itself  alone  is  insufficient  in 
founding  the  right  of  property,  will  it  not  become  legitimate 
by  adding  to  it  convention — that  is  to  say,  the  law  ?  Property, 
we  have  seen,  is  necessary ;  but  if  every  one  is  free  to  appro- 
priate to  himself  what  he  needs,  it  becomes  anarchy  ;  it  is,  as 
Hobbes  said,  "  the  war  of  all  against  all."  It  is  necessary 
that  the  law  should  fix  the  property  of  each  in  the  interest  of 
all.  Property,  under  this  new  hypothesis,  would  then  mean 
the  part  wliich  public  authority  has  fixed  or  recognized,  whether 
we  admit  a  primitive  division  made  by  a  magistrate,  or  a 
primitive  occupation  more  or  less  due  to  chance,  but  conse- 
crated by  law. 

Certainly,  the  reason  of  social  utility  plays  a  great  part  in 
the  establishment  and  consecration  of  property ;  ami  it  woidd 
be  absurd  not  to  take  this  consideration  into  account.     Cer- 


gg  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

tainly,  even  if  property  were  but  a  fact  consecrated  by  time^ 
by  necessity,  and  by  law,  it  would  already  by  tbat  alone  have 
a  very  great  authority ;  but  we  believe  that  that  is  not  saying 
enough.  Property  is  not  only  a  consecrated  fact,  it  is  also  a 
right.     It  finds  in  the  law  its  guaranty,  but  not  its  foundation. 

The  true  prmciple  of  property  is  work ;  and  property  be- 
somes  blended  with  liberty  itself :  "  liberty  and  proijerty," 
say  the  English. 

Work. — If  all  the  things  man  has  need  of  were  in  unlimited 
number,  and  if  they  could  be  acquired  without  effort,  there 
would  be  no  property.  This,  for  example,  takes  place  in  the 
case  of  the  atmosphere,  of  which  we  all  have  need,  but  which 
belongs  to  no  one.  But  if  the  question  is  of  things  that  can- 
not be  acqidred  except  by  a  certain  effort  (as  in  the  case  of 
animals  running  wild),  or  even  that  can  be  produced  only  by 
human  effort  (as  a  harvest  in  a  barren  ground),  these  things 
belong  by  right  to  him  who  conquers  them  or  brings  them 
about. 

"  I  take  wild  wheat  into  my  hand,  I  sow  it  in  soil  I  have  dng,  and  I 
wait  for  the  earth,  aided  by  rain  and  sunshine,  to  do  its  work.  Is 
the  growing  crop  my  property  ?  Where  would  it  be  without  me  ?  I 
created  it.  Who  can  deny  it  ?  .  .  .  This  earth  was  worth  nothing 
and  produced  nothing  :  I  dug  the  soil  ;  I  brought  from  a  distance 
friable  and  fertilizing  earth  ;  I  enriched  it  with  manure  ;  it  is  now  fertile 
for  many  years  to  come.  This  fertility  is  my  work  .  .  .  The  earth 
belonged  to  no  one  ;  in  fertilizing  it,  I  made  it  mine.  According  to 
Locke°  nine  tenths  at  least  of  the  produce  of  the  soU  should  be 
attributed  to  human  labor."  * 

It  has  been  said  that  work  is  not  a  sufficient  foundation  to 
establish  the  right  of  property  ;  that  occupation  must  be  added 
thereto,  for  otherwise  work  alone  would  make  us  the  pro- 
prietors of  what  is  already  occupied  by  others ;  the  farmer 
would  become  the  proprietor  of  the  fields  he  cultivates  from 
the  fact  alone  that  he  cultivates  them.  Occupation  is  there- 
fore  a  necessary  element  of  property. 

*  Jules  iiimon,  Iai  Liberie,  ii.  part,  ch.  iii. 


DUTIES   CONCERNING  THE    PROPERTY  OF  OTHERS.      67 

Certainly ;  but  occupation  itself  lias  no  value  except  as  it 
already  represents  labor,  and  inasmuch  as  it  is  labor.  The 
fact  of  culling  a  fruit,  of  seizing  an  animal,  and  even  of  setting 
foot  upon  a  desert  land,  is  an  exercise  of  my  activity  which  is 
more  or  less  easy  or  difficult  to  accomplish,  but  which  in 
reality  is  not  the  less  the  result  of  an  effort.  It  is,  then,  work 
itself  Avhich  lays  the  foundation  of  occupation  and  consecrates 
it.  But  when  the  thing  once  occupied  has  become  the  prop- 
erty of  a  man  by  a  lirst  Avork,  it  can  no  longer  without  con- 
tradiction become  the  property  of  another  by  a  subsequent 
work.  This  work  applied  to  the  property  of  others  is  not  the 
less  itself  the  foundation  of  property,  namely :  the  price 
received  in  exchange  of  work,  which  is  called  salary,  and 
which  again  by  exchange  can  obtain  for  us  the  possession  of 
things  not  ours. 

33.  Accumulation  and  transmission. — The  right  of  ap- 
propriation, founded  as  we  have  just  seen  on  work,  carries 
with  it  as  its  consequence,  the  right  of  accumulation  and  that 
of  transmission. 

In  fact,  if  I  have  acquired  a  thing,  I  can  either  enjoy  it 
actually,  or  reserve  it  to  enjoy  it  later  ;  and  if  I  have  more 
than  my  actual  wants  require,  I  can  lay  aside  Avhat  to-day 
is  useless  to  me,  but  which  will  be  useful  to  me  later.  This 
is  what  is  called  saw /ir//  and  the  successive  additions  to  savings 
is  called  accumulation.  This  right  cannot  be  denied  to  man  ; 
for  that  would  be  ignoring  in  him  one  of  his  noblest  facul- 
ties, namely,  the  faculty  of  providing  for  the  future.  In 
suppressing  this  right,  the  very  source  of  all  production, 
namely,  work,  would  dry  up ;  for  it  is  his  thought  of  the 
future  which,  above  all,  induces  man  to  work  to  insure  his 
security. 

The  right  of  transmission  is  another  consequence  of  prop- 
erty ;  for  if  I  have  enjoyment  myself,  I  ought  to  be  able  to 
transmit  it  to  others  ;  finally,  I  can  give  up  my  property  to 
obtain  in  its  place  the  property  of  others  which  might  be 
more  agreeable  or  more  useful  to  me  ;  hence  the  right  of  eX' 


68  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

chanqe,  which  gives  rise  to  what  is  called  purchase  and  sale. 
Of  all  transmissions,  the  most  natural  is  that  which  takes 
place  between  a  father  and  his  children :  this  is  what  is 
called  inheritance.  If  we  were  to  deprive  the  head  of  a 
family  of  the  right  of  thinking  of  his  children  in  the  accumu- 
lation of  the  fruits  of  his  labors,  we  should  destroy  thereby 
the  most  energetic  instigation  to  work  there  is  in  the  human 
heart.  . 

34.  Individual  property  and  the  community.— ihe  ad- 
versaries of  property  have  often  said  that  ttey  did  not  attack 
property  in  itself,  but  only  individual  property.  The  sod 
which,  if  not  the  principle,  is  at  least  the  source  of  all  riches, 
belongs,  they  say,  not  to  the  individual,  but  to  society ;  to  the 
State,  that  is  to  say,  to  all,  as  common  and  undivided  property : 
each  individual  is  but  a  consumer,  and  receives  his  share  from 
the  State,  which  alone  is  the  true  proprietor.  This  is  what  is 
called  the  community  system,  or  communism,  which  takes  two 
forms,  according  as  it  admits  the  division  to  be  made  m  a 
manner  absolutely  equal  among  the  co-members  of  the  society, 
which  is  the  equality  system  {systhne  egalitaire) ;  or  by  reason 
of  capadty  and  works.  It  is  this  form  of  communism  winch 
the  school  of  Saint-Simon  maintains  at  tliis  day. 

We  need  not  point  out  the  practical  impossibility  of  realiz- 
ing^ such  a  system.  Let  us  confine  ourselves  to  showing  its 
essential  vice.  If  communism  means  absolute  equahty  (and 
true  communism  does),  it  destroys  the  main  inducement  to 
work  •  for  man  assured  of  his  living  by  the  State,  has  nothing 
left  to  stimulate  him  to  personal  effort.  Work,  deprived  of 
the  hope  of  a  legitimate  remuneration,  would  be  reduced  to  a 
strict  minimum,  and  civilization,  which  lives  by  work,  would 
rapidly  go  backward  :  general  wretchedness  would  be  the  neces- 
sary consequence  of  this  state  of  things  ;  aU  would  be  equally 
poor  and  miserable  ;  humanity  would  go  back  to  its  primitive 
state,  to  get  from  which  it  struggled  so  hard,  and  from  which 
it  emerged  by  means  of  work  and  property  alone.  Moreover, 
as  it  is  absolutely  impossible  to  dispense  with  work,  the  State 


DUTIES  CONCERNING  THE    ritOPERTY  OF  OTHEItS.       G9 

M'oukl  be  obliged  to  enforce  it  upon  those  whom  their  interest 
did  not  spontaneously  incline  to  it ;  from  being  free,  work 
Avould  become  servile,  and  the  pensioners  of  the  State  would 
in  realit)^  be  but  its  slaves. 

As  to  the  inequality-communism  (cormnunisme  inejcllitaire) 
which  recommends  a  remuneration  from  the  State,  proportioned 
to  merit  and  products,  that  is  to  say,  to  capacity  and  works,  it 
certainly  does  not  so  very  seriously  impair  the  principle  of 
property  and  liberty  ;  but,  on  the  one  hand,  it  does  not  satisfy 
the  instincts  of  equality,*  which  have  at  all  times  inspired  the 
communistic  Utopias ;  on  the  other,  it  attacks  the  family 
instincts  by  suppressing  inheritance  ;  now,  if  man  is  interested 
in  his  own  fate,  he  interests  himself  still  more,  as  he  grows 
old,  in  the  fate  of  his  children;  in  depriving  him  of  the 
responsibility  for  their  destinies,  you  deprive  him  of  the 
most  energetic  stimulus  to  work  ;  and  the  tendency  would  be, 
though  in  a  lesser  degree,  to  produce  the  same  evil  of  general 
impoverishment,  as  would  communism  properly  so  called.  But 
the  principal  vice  of  all  communism,  whether  of  equality  or 
inequality,  is  to  substitute  the  State  for  the  individual,  to 
make  of  all  men  functionaries,  to  commit  to  the  State  the 
destinies  of  all  individuals  ;  in  one  word,  to  make  of  the  State 
a  iirovidence.f 

35.  Inequality  of  riches. — Yet  there  Avill  always  arise  in 
the  mind  a  grave  problem :  "VVliy  are  goods  created  for  all, 
distributed  in  so  unequal  and  capricious  a  manner  ?  AVhy  the 
rich  and  the  poor?  and  if  ine(iuality  must  exist,  why  is  it  not 
in  proportion  to  inequality  of  merit  and  individual  work  ? 
AVliy  are  the  idle  and  prodigal  sometimes  rich  ?  Why  are 
the  poor  overwhelmed  by  both  work  and  poverty  1 

There  are  two  questions  here :  1.  Why  is  there  any  ii;- 
e(iuality    at  all  1      2.   ^^^ly,   supposing  this  inequality  must 

*  Tims  we  see  Saint  Simonian  ideas  completely  disappear  from  the  modern  social- 
istic sects  which  all  tend  to  blend  with  the  equality-c.ominunism  pure  and  simple. 

t  On  the  question  of  jirop'^'rty,  see  Thiers,  Ui  Propriete  (184!5)  and  the  Harmonics 
iconomiqutm  de  BastUil,  ch.  viii 


'^'O  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

exist,  has  it  no  connection  with  merit  or  the  work  of  the  in- 
dividual ? 

Regarding  the  first  point,  we  cannot  deny,  unless  we  should 
wish  to  suppress  all  human  responsibdity,  aU  free  and  per- 
sonal activity— in  a  word,  all  liberty— we  cannot  deny,  I  say, 
that  the  inequality  of  merit  and  of  work  authorizes  and 
justifies  a  certain  inequality  in  the  distribution  of  prop- 
erty. 

But,  it  is  said,  this  inequality  is  not  always  m  proportion 
to  the  work.      It  may  be  answered  that  as  civic  laws  become 
more  perfect  (by  the  abolition  of  monopoly,  privdeges,  abuse 
of  rights,  sucli  as  the  feudal  rights,  etc.,)  the  distribution  of 
riches  wdl  tend  to  become  more  and  more  in  proportion  to 
individual  merit  and  efforts.      There  remain  but  two  sources 
of  inequality  which  do  not  proceed  from  personal  work  :  1, 
accidents  ;  2,  hereditary  transmission.     But  in  regard  to  acci- 
dents, there  is  no  way  of  absolutely  suppressing  the  part 
chance  plays  in  man's  destiny;    it  can  only  be  corrected  and 
diminished,  and  thereto  tend  the  institutions    of   life-assur- 
ances,   savings-banks,   banks    of   assistance,  etc.,  which  are 
means  of  equalization  growing  along  \\ith  the  general  pro- 
gress.    As  to  the  inequality  produced  by  inheritance,  one  of 
two  things  is  to  be  considered  :  either  the  heir  keeps  and  in- 
creases by  his  ovra  work  what  he  has  acquired,  and  thus  suc- 
ceeds in  deserving  it ;    or,  on  the  contrary,  he  ceases  to  work 
and  consumes  without  producing,  and  in  this  case  he  destroys 
his  privilege  himself  without  the  State's  meddling  with  it. 

Besides,  the  question  is  less  concerning  the  relative  well- 
being  of  men  than  their  absolute  icell-being.  What  use  would 
it  be  to  men  to  be  all  equal  if  they  were  aU  miserable  1  There 
is  certainly  more  equality  in  a  republic  of  savages  than  in  our 
European  societies  ;  but  how  many  of  our  poor  Europeans  are 
there  who  would  exchange  their  condition  for  an  existence 
among  savages]  In  reality,  social  progress,  in  continually  in- 
creasing general  wealth,  increases  at  the  same  time  the  well- 
beina  oi  each,  without  increasing  the  sum  of  individual  efforts. 


DUTIES    COXCERXING   THE    PROPERTY    OF   OTHERS.     71 

This  superaddition  of  well-being  is  in  reality  gratuitous,  aa 
Bastiat  has  demonstrated.  "  Hence,"'  as  he  says,  "  with  a 
community  increasing  in  well-bemg,*  as  by  property  ever 
better  guaranteed,  we  leave  behind  as  the  community  of  misery 
from  Avhich  we  came." 

"Propert}-,"  says  Bastiat,  "  ten Js  to  transform  onerous  into  gratuitous 
utility.  It  is  that  spur  which  obliges  human  intelligence  to  draw  from 
the  inertia  of  matter  its  latent  natural  forces.  It  struggles,  certainly 
for  its  own  benefit,  against  the  obstacles  which  make  utility  onerous  ; 
and  when  the  obstacle  is  overthrown,  it  is  found  that  its  disappearance 
benefits  all.  Then  the  indefatigable  proprietor  attacks  new  obstacles, 
and  continually  raising  the  human  level,  he  more  and  more  realizes 
community,  and  with  it  equality  in  the  midst  of  the  great  human 
family. " 

36.  Duties  concerning  the  property  of  others. — After 

having  estabii.shed  the  right  of  general  i>ro[)crty,  we  have  to 
expound  the  duties  relative  to  the  property  of  others. 

The  property  of  others  may  be  injured  in  various  ways,  and 
in  different  cases.  These  cases  are  :  I,. loans;  2,  trusts ;  3, 
things  lost :  4,  sales  ;  5,  projyerty  strictly  so-called. 

37.  Loans. — Debts. — The  inequaHty  of  riches  is  the  cause 
that  among  men  some  have  need  of  what  others  possess,  and 
yet  cannot  procure  by  imrchase,  for  want  of  means.  In  this 
case,  the  first  turn  to  the  second  to  obtain  the  temporary  en- 
joyment of  the  thing  they  stand  in  need  of  ;  this  is  called 
horroicinr)  ;  the  reciprocal  act,  which  consists  in  conceding  for 
a  time  the  desired  object,  is  called  loaning.  He  who  borrows, 
and  who  by  this  very  act  engages  himself  to  return  the  thing 
again,  is  called  deltor  (who  owes),  and  he  who  loans  is  called 
creditor  ;  he  has  a  credit  on  his  debtor. 

Several  questions  spring  from  this,  some  very  simple,  others 
very  delicate,  and  often  debated. 

38.  Rights  and  duties  of  the  creditor— Money  interest.— 
Usury. — And  lirst,  is  it  a  duty  to  loan  lo  any  that  ask  you  .'    It 

*  See  In  the  Harmonies  icononiquesxWi.,  that  ingenious  and  substantial  theory 
■which  shows  the  growing  progress  of  the  comraunitj'  by  reason  of  property. 


72  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

is  evident  that  if  it  is  a  duty  it  can  be  only  a  duty  of  charity,  or 
friendliness,  but  not  of  strict  justice.  One  is  no  more  obliged  to 
loan  to  all  than  to  give  to  all.  The  duty  of  loaning,  like  the 
duty  of  giving  without  discrimination,  would  be  tantamount 
to  the  negation  of  property ;  for  he  who  would  open  his 
money-chest  to  all  unconditionally,  however  rich  he  might  be, 
would  in  a  few  days  be  absolutely  despoiled.  Besides,  the 
same  duty  weighing  equally  on  those  Avho  have  received, 
they  in  their  turn  would  be  obliged  to  pass  their  goods  over 
to  others,  and  no  one  would  ever  be  proprietor.  In  this  case, 
it  would  even  be  better  to  hand  all  property  over  to  the  State, 
that  it  might  establish  a  certain  order  and  fixity  in  the  repar- 
tition of  it. 

It  is  this  doctrine  Avhich  a  Father  of  the  Church,  Clement 
of  Alexandria,  has  expressed  in  these  terms  in  his  treatise  : 
Can  any  rich  man  he  saved  ? 

"  What  division  of  property  could  there  be  among  men  if  no  one  had 
anything  ?  If  we  cannot  fulfil  the  duties  of  charity  without  any  money, 
and  if  at  the  same  time  we  were  commanded  to  reject  riches,  would 
there  not  be  contradiction  ?  Would  it  not  be  to  say  at  the  same  time 
give  and  not  give,  feed  and  not  feed,  share  and  not  share  ? " 

It  is  therefore  not  a  strict  duty  to  loan  to  all ;  it  is  a  form 
of  benevolence,  and  we  must  put  off  to  another  chapter  (ch. 
vi.)  the  conditions  and  the  degrees  of  this  duty. 

But  a  question  which  necessarily  presents  itself  here,  is  to 
know  if,  when  one  loans,  it  is  a  duty  to  deprive  one's  self  of  all 
remuneration ;  or  if  it  is,  on  the  contrary,  permitted  to  exact 
a  price  over  and  beyond  the  sum  loaned.  This  is  what  is 
called  money  interest ;  and  when  this  interest  is  or  appears 
excessive,  it  is  called  usury.  This  question,  discussed  during 
the  whole  middle  ages,  was,  before  its  true  principles  were 
established,  first  resolved  by  practice  and  necessity. 

It  is  to-day  evident  to  all  sensible  minds,  that  capital,  like 
work,  has  a  right  to  remuneration.  Why  ?  Because  without 
the  expectation  of  this  remuneration,  the  possessor  of  the 


DUTIES   CONCERNING    THE    PROPERTY    OF   OTHERS.      73 

capital  would  forthwith  consume  it  himself  or  allow  it  to 
waste  away  without  use.  This  will  be  better  understood  in 
considering  the  two  principal  fonns  of  remuneration  for  cap- 
ital :  interest  and  rent.  Interest  and  rent  are  both  the  pro- 
duct of  a  capital  loaned,  but  with  this  difference,  that  rent 
is  the  product  of  a  fixed  capital  (house,  field,  workshop)  ; 
while  interest  is  the  product  of  a  drculathuj  capital  (money 
or  paper). 

The  interest  of  capital  represents  two  things  :  1 ,  the  depri- 
vation of  him  Avho  loans,  and  who  might  consume  his  capital ; 
2,  the  risk  he  incurs,  for  capital  is  never  loaned  except  to  be 
invested,  and  consequently  it  may  be  lost.  These  are  the 
two  fundamental  reasons  which  establish  the  legitimacy  of 
interest,  despite  the  prejudices  which  have  long  condemned  it 
as  u^sury,  and  the  Utopias  which  would  establish  the  gratuity 
of  credit.''' 

The  principal  reason  against  the  legitimacy  of  interest  is 
deduced  from  the  sterility  of  money.  "  Interest,"  says  Aris- 
totle, "is  money  hredfrom  money ;  and  nothing  is  more  con- 
trary to  nature."  But,  as  Bentham  remarks  {Defense  of  Usury, 
letter  10),  "if  it  l)e  true  that  a  sum  of  money  is  of  itself  in- 
capable to  breed,  it  is  not  the  less  true  that  with  this  same 
borrowed  sum,  a  man  can  buy  a  ram  and  a  sheep,  Avhich,  at 
the  end  of  a  year,  will  have  produced  two  or  three  lambs." 
In  other  terms,  as  Calvin  says,  "  it  is  not  from  the  money  it- 
self that  the  benefit  comes,  it  is  from  the  use  that  is  made 
of  it." 

It  has  been  said  that  he  who  loans  does  not  deprive  him- 
self of  his  money,  since  he  can  do  without  it.  (Proudhon, 
Letters  to  Bastiat,  3d  letter.)  But  he  does  deprive  himself 
of  it,  since  he  might  have  consumed  it  himself.  The  proof 
that  a  loan  is  a  privation,  is  the  pain  men  have  in  economiz- 
ing and  in  investing  their  money.     How  many  men  are  there 


*  See  especially  about  the  question  of  interest,  the  controversy  between  ProudhoB 
and  Bastiat.    (Works  of  Bastiat,  vol.  v.,  Gratuity  qf  Credit.) 

4 


74  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

who,  in  possession  of  a  sum  of  one  liundred  francs,  v.-oukl  not 
rather  spend  it  than  place  it  on  interest  1 

As  to  what  is  called  gratuitous  credit,  it  could  be  possible 
only  by  being  reciprocal.  In  fact,  if  I  loan  you  my  house,  and 
you  loan  me  in  return  your  land,  supposing  they  are  of 
equal  value,  it  is  evident  that,  the  one  being  worth  as  much 
as  the  other,  and  the  two  services  equivalent,  we  need  not 
pay  each  other  anything ;  for  it  would  be  only  an  exchange 
of  money.  But  notliing  can  be  inferred  from  this,  touching 
the  most  usual  case  :  namely,  where  the  capital  is  loaned  by 
the  possessor  to  him  who  does  not  possess ;  for  then  there  is 
no  reciprocity,  consequently  no  gratuity. 

As  to  the  rate  of  interest  it  varies  like  all  values  according 
to  the  law  of  supply  and  demand  in  the  money  market.  (See 
the  Conrs  d'Economie  Politique.)  The  greater  the  supply  of 
capital  the  less  dear  it  is.  It  is,  then,  the  increase  of  capital 
that  is  to  diminish  interest  and  bring  about  a  sort  of  relative 
gratuity.  Every  enterprise  against  capital  will  produce  a 
contrary  result. 

As  to  the  rent  of  capital,  it  has  generally  raised  fewer 
objections  than  interest;  for  it  is  easier  to  understand  that  if 
I  give  myself  the  trouble  to  build  a  house,  it  is  that  it  will 
bring  me  in  something;  but  it  is,  on  the  whole,  the  same 
thing,  with  this  difference,  that  circulating  capital,  running 
more  risks  than  fixed  capital,  seems  to  have  a  still  better  right 
to  remuneration. 

The  lender  has  then  the  right  to  exact  a  certain  amount 
over  and  above  the  sum  loaned.  Certainly,  he  cannot  exact 
it,  as  it  often  occurs  among  friends,  and  for  very  small  sums. 
But  as  a  principle,  one  is  no  more  obliged  to  lend  gratuitously, 
than  to  give  to  others  gratuitously  what  they  need. 

In  admitting  that  the  interest  of  money  is  a  legitimate  thing, 

is  one  obliged  also  to  admit  that  the  money-lender  has  a  right 

to  fix  the  rate  of  interest  as  high  as  he  wishes  ?     Beyond  a 

certain  liudt,  will  not  the  interest  become  what  we  call  usury  1 

To  which  may  be  replied  : 


DUTIES    COXCERNING    THE  PROPERTY   OF   OTHERS.       75 

"1.  If  the  one  bo^ro^ving  consents  to  pay  the  price,  it  is  that  this  service 
done  hiui  does  not  appear  to  him  too  dear.  One  may  borrow  at  20  and 
even  30  per  cent.,  if  one  foresees  a  gain  of  40.  2.  Why  not  look 
^,t  the  thing  from  the  lender's  standpoint  ?  If  the  return  of  the  funds 
appears  more  or  less  doubtful,  why  should  he  not  have  the  right  to 
protect  himself?"     {Dictionary  of  Politics,  by  Maurice  Block.) 

These  arguments  prove,  in  fact,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
determine  beforehand  and  absolutely  the  rate  at  which  it 
may  be  permitted  to  lend,  and  there  are  many  cases  where  a 
very  high  interest  may  be  legitimate  :  for  instance,  in  what 
is  called  bottomry-loan,  which  consists  in  advances  made  to 
shipping  merchants  on  their  ships ;  the  law  here  sanctions 
very  high  interest,  because  of  the  exceptional  risks  this  kind 
of  enterprise  runs. 

Does  it,  however,  follow,  as  some  economists  seem  to  think, 
that  there  is  no  occasion  to  speak  of  usury,  properly  so  called, 
that  the  term  usurer  is  an  insult,  invented  by  ignorance,  which 
has  no  real  basis  1  This  we  cannot  admit.  Political  economy 
and  morality  are  two  different  things. 

Even  if  one  should  admit  that  there  is  no  reason  for  legally 
fixing  the  rate  of  interest,  because  money  is  a  merchandise  like 
all  others  which  should  be  left  to  free  circulation,  to  the  free 
appreciation  of  the  parties,  it  would  not  follow  that  there 
could  be  no  abuse  made  of  the  required  interest.  Experience 
proves  the  contrary.  It  is  not  so  much  the  rate  of  the  interest 
which  constitutes  the  injustice  thereof,  as  the  reasons  and 
circumstances  of  the  loan.  If,  taking  advantage  of  the  pas- 
sions of  youth,  one  loans  to  a  prodigal,  knowing  liiiii  unable 
to  refuse  the  conditions,  because  he  only  listens  to  pleasure  ; 
or  if,  seducing  the  ignorant,  one  dazzles  him  with  magniticent 
bargains  ;  or,  lastly,  if  profiting  by  the  common  desire  among 
peasants  to  enlarge  their  grounds,  we  advance  them  money, 
knowing  they  cannot  return  it,  and  secure  thereby  the  prop- 
erty they  think  they  are  buying,  in  all  such  cases,  or  similar 
ones,  there  is  always  usury,  and  morality  must  condemn  such 
hateful  practices. 


76  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

The  hatefulness  of  usury  is  brought  into  strong  relief  in 
Moli^re's  celebrated  scene  in  The  Miser  (Act  ii.,  So.  i.)  : 

La  FLfeCHE :  Suppose  that  the  lender  sees  all  the  securities,  and 
that  the  borrower  be  of  age  and  of  a  family  of  large  property,  sub- 
stantial, secure,  clear  and  free  from  any  incumbrances,  there  will  then 
be  drawn  up  a  regular  bond  before  a  notary,  as  honest  a  man  as  may  be 
found,  who  to  this  effect  shall  be  clioson  by  the  lender,  to  whom  it  is 
of  particular  importance  that  the  bond  be  properly  drawn  up. 

Cleante  :  That's  all  right. 

La  FLteciiE :  The  lender  not  to  burden  his  conscience  with  any  scruples, 
means  to  give  his  money  at  the  low  rate  of  denier  eighteen*  (5,  9  per 
cent. )  only. 

Cleante  :  Denier  eighteen  ?    Jolly  !     That's  honest  indeed  !      No 

fault  to  find  there  ! 

La  Fl^Che  :  No.  But  as  the  said  lender  has  not  with  him  the  sum 
in  question,  and,  to  oblige  the  borrower,  he  will  himself  be  obliged  to 
borrow  from  another  at  the  rate  of  denier  five  (20  per  cent),  it  will  be 
but  just  that  the  abovesaid  first  borrower  should  pay  that  interest 
without  prejudice  to  the  other,  for  it  is  only  to  oblige  him  that  the 
said  lender  resorts  to  this  loan. 

Cleante  :  The  devil !  What  a  Jew  !  What  an  Arab  is  that ! 
That  would  be  at  a  greater  rate  than  denier  four  (25  per  cent. ). 

La  FLtecHE  :  That's  so  :  it  is  just  what  I  said. 

Cleante  :  Is  there  anything  more  ? 

La  Fleche  :  But  just  a  small  item.  Of  the  fifteen  thousand  francs 
tliat  are  asked,  the  lender  can  give  in  cash  only  twelve  thousand,  and 
ibr  the  thousand  crowns  remaining,  it  will  be  necessary  that  the  bor- 
I'ower  take  the  clothes,  stock,  jewelry,  etc.,  of  which  here  is  the  list. 

Cleante  :  The  plague  on  him  ! 

The  next  scene  shows  with  remarkable  energy  the  spend- 
tltrift  and  the  usurer  in  conflict  with  each  other. f 

39.  Duties  of  the  debtor— After  the  duties  of  the  lender 
and  the  creditor,  let  us  point  out  those  of  the  borrower  or  the 
debtor.  The  only  duty  for  him  here  is  to  return  what  he 
has  borrowed :  it  is  the  duty  of  paying  one's  debts. 

For  a  long  time,  the  duty  of  paying  one's  debts  appeared  to 
be  one  of  those  vulgar  and  commonplace  duties  intended  for 

*  Mode  of  reckoning  in  the  time  of  Louis  XIV. 

t  The  scene  between  father  and  son  in  The  Miser  (Sc.  ii.,  Act  iii.). 


DUTIES    COXCERNING   THE    PROPERTY    OF    OTHERS.       77 

the  geuerality  of  men,  but  from  Avliich  the  great  lords  freed 
themselves  easily.  The  poor  creditors  have  been  the  laughing 
stock  in  comedies.*  But  it  is  not  doubted  nowadays  that  to 
refuse  to  pay  what  one  owes,  is  really  taking  from  the  proi> 
erty  of  others,  and  appropriating  what  does  not  belong  to  us. 

This  duty,  besides,  is  so  simple  and  stringent  that  it  is 
necessary  only  to  mention  it  without  further  development. 
The  same  principles  apply  to  the  various  ways  in  which  one 
may  make  use  of  property,  and  particularly  to  the  three  kinds 
indicated  in  the  Civil  Code — the  mufrad,  the  us(Mje,  and  the 
right  of  action.  The  common  obligation  in  these  three  cases, 
mentioned  by  the  Code,  is  to  use  the  thing  belonging  to 
others  as  a  prude/it  father  would,  which  is  to  say,  to  use  it  as 
the  proprietor  himself  would  use  it,  without  injuring  the 
object,  and  even  improving  it  as  much  as  possible.  It  is 
especially  in  commerce  that  the  act  of  paying  one's  debts,  is 
not  only  more  obligatory  morally,  but  socially  more  necessary 
than  anywhere  else.  The  reason  of  it  is  that  commerce  is 
impossible  without  credit.  By  exacting  of  every  merchant 
the  payment  of  casli,  the  springs  of  exchange  would  dry  up ; 
besides,  most  of  the  time  it  would  be  useless ;  for  in  com- 
merce merchandise  is  constantly  bought  against  merchandise. 
It  would  be  loss  of  time,  loss  of  writing,  limitation  of  the 
market.  In  commerce  one  cannot  say  of  him  who  owes  that 
he  is  a  borrower ;  for  the  next  day,  according  to  the  fluctua- 
tions of  demand  and  supply,  he  may  be  the  lender.  But  it  is 
just  because  credit  is  indispensable  in  commerce,  that  the 
obligations  of  the  debtors  are  in  some  respect  more  stringent ; 
for  the  greater  the  confidence,  the  more  stringent  the  duty. 
So  that  commei'cial  honor  is  like  militari)  honor — it  does  not 
admit  of  breaking  promises. 

40.  Failures  and  bankruptcies. -^However  strict  one 
should  be  in  commerce  in  regard  to  keeping  promises,  there  is 
nevertheless  in  the  Code  cause  for  distinguishing  two  different 

*  See,  in  Moliere's  Dun  /«««,  the  cliarming  scene  between  Don  Juan  and  I\Ir. 
Dimanehe. 


lyg  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

cases  of  promise-breaking— failure  and  bankruptcy  ;  and  in 
this   second   case,  there  is  simple  bankruptcy  and  fraudulent 

bankruptcy. 

Taihire  is  purely  and  simply  the  suspension  of  payments 
resulting  from  circumstances  independent  of  the  wiU  of  him 
who  faUs.  Bankruptcy,  on  the  contrary,  is  suspension  of  pay- 
ments resulting  either  from  imprudence  or  from  mistakes  of 

the  bankrupt. 

Simple  bankruptcy  occurs  in  the  following  cases  :  1.  it  the 
personal  expenses  of  the  merchant  or  the  expenses  of  his 
house  are  judged  excessive  ;  2.  If  he  has  spent  large  sums  of 
money  in  operations  of  pure  chance  either  in  fictitious  opera- 
tions or  extravagant  purchases;  3.  If  with  the  intention  of 
puttinc.  off  his  failure,  he  has  made  purchases  to  sell  again 
below  par-  4.  If  after  cessation  of  payment,  he  has  paid  a 
creditor  to  the  prejudice  of  all  others.  (Code  of  Commerce  ) 
Bankruptcv  is  called  fraudulent,  when  the  bankrupt  has 
abstracted  his  books,  misrepresented  a  portion  of  his  assets,  or 
declared  liimself  debtor  for  sums  he  does  not  owe. 

It  is  useless  to  say  that  this  third  case  is  but  another  case 
of  theft  and  deserves  the  severest  denunciation.  Simple 
bankruptcy  is  already  very  culpable  ;  and  failure  itself  should 
be  regarded  by  aU  merchants  as  a  very  gi'eat  misfortune,  which 
thev  must  avoid  at  any  cost. 

41  The  commodate  or  gratuitous  loan.-The  gratuitous 
loan  'or  commodate  is  a  contract  by  which  one  of  the  parties 
.ives  to  the  other  a  thing  to  be  made  use  of,  on  the  condition 
that  it  be  returned  after  having  served  its  purpose.      (Code 

Civ.,  Art.  1875.) 

As  a  fundamental  principle,  the  receiver  must  return  to  the 
lender  the  verv  thing  he  has  loaned  him.  But  in  case  of  loss 
or  deterioration  of  the  thing  loaned,  resulting  from  the  use 
made  of  it,  on  whom  is  to  fall  the  loss? 

"It  cannot  be  presumed,  says  Kant  (Doctrine  of  the  Law,  French 
transla  ion  p.  146),  that  the  lender  should  take  upon  himself  al 
he     hancs^f   los     or    deterioration    of   the  thing   loaned;    for    .t 


DUTIES    CONCEKNIXG    THE    PROPERTY    OF   OTHERS.       79 

stands  to  reason  that  the  proprietor,  besides  granting  to  the  borrower 
the  use  of  the  thing  he  loans  liini,  would  not  agree  to  insure  him  also 
against  all  risks.  If,  for  instance,  during  a  shower.  I  enter  a  house, 
M-here  I  borrow  a  cloak,  and  this  cloak  gets  to  be  forever  spoiled 
from  coloring  matters  thrown  upon  me  by  mischance,  from  a  window, 
or  if  it  be  stolen  from  me  in  a  house  where  I  laid  it  down,  it  would  be 
considered  generally  absurd,  to  say  that  I  had  nothing  else  to  do  than 
to  send  back  the  cloak,  such  as  it  is,  or  report  the  theft  that  has  taken 
place.  The  case  would  be  very  different  if,  after  having  asked  per- 
mission to  use  a  thing,  I  .should  insure  myself  against  the  loss  in  case  it^ 
should  suffer  any  damage  at  my  hands,  \>\  begging  not  to  be  held  respon- 
sible for  it.  Xo  one  would  think  this  precaution  superfluous  and  ridic- 
ulous, except  perhaps  the  lender,  supposing  he  was  a  rich  and  generous 
man  ;  for  it  would  then  be  almost  an  oflFense  not  to  expect  from  his 
generosity  the  remission  of  my  debt." 


42.  The  trust. — Trust,  in  general,  is  an  act  by  -which 
one  receives  the  thing  of  another  on  condition  to  keep  it  and 
restore  it  in  kind.     (Code  Civ.,  Art.  191.5.) 

He  who  deposits  is  called  deponent  (or  bailor  in  England)  ; 
he  who  receives  the  trust  is  called  depositary  (in  England 
bailee). 

The  obligations  of  the  depositary  are  morally  the  same  as 
those  found  in  positive  law.  AVe  have  then  nothing  better 
to  do  here  than  to  reproduce  the  precepts  of  the  Code  on  this 
matter. 

1.  The  depositary,  in  keeping  the  thing  deposited  Avith 
him,  must  exercise  the  same  care  as  with  the  things  belonging 
to  himself  (Art.  1927). 

2.  This  obHgation  becomes  still  more  stringent  in  the  fol- 
lowing cases  :  {a),  when  the  depositary  offers  himself  to  receive 
the  thing  in  trust;  {h),  when  he  stipulates  for  a  compensation 
for  the  keeping  of  the  thing  deposited ;  (r),  when  the  trust  is 
to  the  interest  of  the  depositary ;  {d),  when  it  has  been  ex- 
pressly agreed  upon  that  the  depositary  be  answerable  for  all 
kinds  of  mistakes  (Art.  1928). 

3.  The  depositary  cannot  make  use  of  the  trust  without  the 
express  or  presumed  consent  of  the  deponent  (.\rt  1929). — 


80  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

For  example,  if  a  library  lias  been  left  in  my  trust,  it  may  be 
presumed  that  the  deponent  would  not  object  to  my  using  it ; 
but  if  the  trust  consists  in  valuable  jewelry,  it  can  be  only  by 
the  express  wish  of  the  deponent  that  I  could  wear  it.  The 
difference  is  simple  and  easily  understood. 

4.  The  depositary  should  not  seek  to  know  Avhat  the  things 
deposited  Avith  him  are,  if  they  have  been  left  with  him  in  a 
closed  trunk  or  a  sealed  envelope  (Art.  1931). 

5.  The  depositary  must  return  the  identical  thing  he  has 
received.  Thus  the  trust  consisting  in  specie,  must  be  returned 
in  the  same  specie. 

The  obligation  to  restore  the  thing  deposited  in  kind,  and 
such  as  it  was  when  dehvered,  is  evident,  and  constitutes  the 
very  essence  of  the  trust. 

However,  we  should  take  into  account  the  following  cir- 
cumstances : 

1.  The  depositary  is  not  held  responsible  in  cases  of  insuper- 
able accidents  (Art.  1929). 

2.  The  depositary  is  only  held  to  return  the  things  deposited 
with  him,  in  the  state  wherein  they  are  at  the  moment  of 
restitution.  Deteriorations,  through  no  fault  of  his,  are  at  the 
expense  of  the  deponent  (Art.  1935). 

Such  are  the  obligations  of  the  depositary  ;  as  to  those  of 
the  deponent,  they  resolve  themselves  into  the  following  rule  : 

The  deponent  is  held  to  reimburse  the  depositary  for  any 
expense  he  may  have  incurred  in  the  keeping  of  the  trust,  and 
to  idemnify  him  for  any  loss  the  trust  may  have  occasioned 
him  (Art.  1947). 

43.  Possession  in  good  faith.— Possession  in  good  faith  is 
analogous  to  trust.  In  fact,  he  who  possesses  in  good  faith  a 
thing  that  is  not  his,  is  in  reahty  but  a  depositary,  but  he  is 
so  Avithout  knowing  it.  Hence  analogies  and  differences 
between  these  two  cases,  which  it  is  v»'cll  to  point  out. 

The  following  are  some  rules  proposed  on  this  subject  by 
Gr.jtius  (De  la  paix  et  de  la  guerre,  B.  11,  ch.  xii.,  §3) ;  and 
Pulfendorf  (Droit  de  la  Nature  et  des  Gens,  B.  iv.,  ch.  xiii., 


*^  nGELE:"    '•-  CaL 
duties  concernixg  the  property'  of  others.     81 

§  12).     But  as  these  rules  appeared  excessive  to  other  juris- 
consults, we  give  them  here  rather  as  j9roWe?«s  than  solutioi^  : 

1.  A  possessor  in  good  faith  is  not  obhged  to  restore  a  thing 
which,  against  liis  wish,  has  come  to  be  destroyed  or  lost,  for 
his  good  faith  stood  to  him  in  lieu  of  property. 

2.  A  possessor  in  good  faith  is  hekl  to  return  not  only  the 
thing  itself,  but  also  its  fruits  still  existing  in  kind. 

3.  A  possessor  in  good  faith  is  held  to  return  the  thing 
itself,  and  the  value  of  the  fruit  thereof  which  he  has  con- 
sumed, if  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  lie  would  have  other- 
wise consumed  as  many  similar  ones. 

4.  A  possessor  in  good  faith  is  not  held  to  return  in  kind 
the  value  of  the  fruit  he  has  neglected  to  gather  or  to  grow. 

5.  If  a  possessor  in  good  faith,  having  received  the  thing  as 
a  present,  should  afterwards  give  it  to  another,  he  is  not 
obliged  to  return  it,  unless  he  would  otherwise  have  given  one 
of  the  same  value. 

6.  If  a  possessor  in  good  faith,  having  acquired  a  thing  by 
an  onerous  title,  should  afterwards  dispose  of  it  in  some  way 
or  other,  he  need  return  but  the  gain  it  procured  him. 

It  is  necessary  to  remark  here  that  in  this  matter  morality 
.should  be  more  severe  than  the  strict  law  :  for  if  morality 
demands  that  a  possessor  be  above  all  mindful  of  the  rights 
of  others,  the  law  should  also  consider  the  rights  of  him  who 
in  good  faith  and  ignorance  enjoys  what  belongs  to  others. 
Hence,  an  essential  difTerence  between  this  case  and  that  of 
the  trust. 

44.  Things  lost. — The  question  of  things  lost  is  related  to 
that  of  possession  in  good  faith.  If  the  thing  lost  should  fall 
into  my  hands  by  a  regular  acquisition,  by  purchase,  contract, 
etc.  (as,  for  instance,  buying  a  horse  in  the  market),  it  is  evi- 
dent that  this  case  comes  under  possession  in  good  faith,  and 
that  it  is  the  business  of  the  law  to  decide  between  proprietor 
and  possessor.  But  if  I  appropriate  to  myself  the  thing  lost, 
knowing  it  to  be  lost,  and  consequently  not  mine,  there  is 
fraud    and  converting   to   my  own  use  the  property  of  others. 


82  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

Pul)lic  opinion  was  for  a  long  time  indulgent  towards  this  kind 
of  appropriation.  It  seemed  that  luck  gave  a  certain  title  to 
property.  The  difficulty,  moreover,  of  finding  the  true  owner, 
seemed  to  give  to  him  who  had  found  the  o])ject  a  certain  right 
to  it.  But  to-day  society  plays  the  part  of  intermediary,  and 
assumes  the  duty  of  restoring  tlie  thing  lost  to  its  owner.  It 
is,  therefore,  to  the  authorities  the  object  must  be  returned.* 

For  a  long  time  a  misjudgment  of  the  same  kind  allowed 
wreckers  a  pretended  right  to  the  objects  thrown  on  the  strand 
by  the  tempest  following  a  wreck. 

45.  Sale. — Sale  is  a  contract  by  which  one  of  the  parties 
engages  to  deliver  a  thing,  and  the  other  to  pjay  for  it  (Civ. 
Code,  Art.  1982).  There  are,  then,  two  contracting  parties— the 
seller  and  the  hmjer.    They  are  subject  to  difi"erent  obKgations. 

Obligations  of  the  seller.^The  seller  is  held  clearly  to 
explain  what  he  engages  to  do.  An  obscure  and  ambiguous 
agreement  is  interpreted  against  the  seller  (Civ.  Code,  Art. 
1602).  Such  is  the  general  and  fundamental  obligation  of 
a  sale.  It  implies,  moreover,  two  others,  more  particular  : 
1,  that  of  delivering;  2,  that  of  gibaranteeing  the  thing  sold. 

The  first  is  very  simple,  and  raises  only  questions  of  fact, 
as  in  regard  to  delays,  expenses  of  removal,  etc.  ;  it  is  the 
business  of  the  law  to  regulate  these  details. 

The  guaranty,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  is  of  greater 
importance.  The  two  essential  principles  in  this  matter  are 
expressed  by  the  Code  in  the  following  terms : 

1.  The  seller  is  held  to  his  guaranty  in  proportion  to  the 
concealed  defects  of  the  thing  sold,  rendering  it  improper  for 
the  use  for  which  it  was  destined,  or  so  diminishing  this  use, 
that  the  buyer  would  not  have  bought  it,  or  would  not  have 
given  so  much  for  it,  had  he  known  of  these  defects. 

*  "Things  lost  cannot  give  rise  to  an  action  for  theft,  when  the  finder,  after 
having  looked  for  their  proprietor  in  vain,  and  only  retained  them  when  his 
researches  proved  fruitless,  has  ascertained  that  the  proprietor  will  not  present 
himself.  But  if  the  thing  has  teen  taken  with  the  intention  of  appropriating  it, 
if  it  has  an  owner,  although  unknown,  there  is  no  doubt  about  the  delinquency." 
(Faustin-Helie,  Droit pinal,  iv.  edit,  Le§on  v.,  p.  C6.) 


DUTIES  CONCERNING  THE  PHOPERTT  OF  OTHERS.       83 

2.  The  seller  is  not  liekl  to  the  oln'ious  defects  which  the 
buyer  may  have  been  able  to  see  himself. 

It  is  to  this  question  of  guaranteeing  the  tiling  sold,  that 
the  conscience-case  mentioned  by  Cicero,  in  his  treatise  on 
Duties,  is  applicable : 

An  honest  man  puts  up  for  sale  a  house,  for  defects  only  known  to 
him  ;  this  house  is  unhealthy  and  passes  foi'  health}' ;  it  is  not  known 
that  there  is  not  a  room  in  it  where  there  are  no  serpents  ;  the  timber 
is  bad  and  threatens  ruin  ;  but  the  master  alone  knows  it.  I  ask  if 
the  seller  who  should  not  say  anything  about  it  to  the  buyers,  and 
should  get  for  it  much  more  than  he  has  a  right  to  expect,  would  do  a 
just  or  unjust  thing.  "Certainly  he  would  do  wrong,"  says  Auti pater; 
"is  it  not,  in  fact,  leading  a  man  into  error  knowingly?"  Diogenes, 
on  the  contrary,  replies  :  "  AVere  you  obliged  to  buy?  You  were  not 
even  invited  to  do  so.  Tins  man  put  up  for  sale  a  house  that  no  longer 
suited  him,  and  you  bought  it  because  it  suited  you.  If  any  one  should 
advertise  :  Fine  country-house  well  built,  he  is  not  charged  with  deceit, 
even  though  it  was  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  And  whilst  one  is 
not  responsible  for  what  he  says,  you  would  make  one  responsible  for 
what  he  does  not  say  !  What  would  be  more  ridiculous  than  a  seller ' 
who  would  make  known  the  defects  of  the  thing  he  puts  up  for  sale  ? 
What  more  absurd  than  a  public  crier  who,  by  order  of  his  master, 
should  cry  :   "  Unhealthy  house  for  sale  !  " 

Despite  Diogenes'  railleries,  Cicero  decides  in  favor  of 
Antipater  and  the  more  rigorous  solution.  The  truly  honest 
man,  he  says,  is  he  who  conceals  notliing. 

If  it  is  a  fault  not  to  reveal  the  defects  of  the  thing  sold,  it 
is  a  still  graver  one,  and  one  which  becomes  a  fraud,  to  ascribe 
to  it  qualities  or  advantages  it  has  not.  Cicero  cites  on  this 
subject  a  charming  and  well-known  anecdote. 

The  Roman  patrician,  C.  Canius,  a  man  lacking  neither  in  personal 
atti'actions  nor  learning,  having  gone  to  Syracuse,  not  on  business,  but 
to  do  nothing,*  as  he  expressed  it,  said  everywhere  that  he  wished  to 
buy  a  pleasure-house,  to  which  he  might  invite  his  friends,  and  amuse 
himself  with  them  away  from  intruders.  Upon  this  report,  a  certain 
Pythius,  a  Syracuse  banker,  came  to  tell  him  that  he  had  a  pleasure- 
house  which  was  not  for  sale,  but  which  he  offered  him  and  begged  him 

*  Tlie  jilay  in  I.atin  is  on  tlie  words  otiandi  and  HegoiiaiiJi.— Translator. 


g4  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

to  use  as  his  own,  inviting  him  at  the  same  time  to  '^m^';^^  ^^^'f^^^^ 
day.     Canius  having  accepted,  Pythius,  wlio  m  his  quahty  of  bankei 
had  much  influence  among  people  of  all  professions,  assembled  some 
fishermen,  requesting  them  to  go  iisliing  the  next  day  m  front  of  hi 
pLasnre-housl  giving  them  his  orders.     Canius  did  not  f-1  to  present 
himself  at  the  supper  hour.     He  found  prepared  ^^^'^-^fJ^J'^ 
and  a  multitude  of  boats  before  the  grounds  of  his  host.     Each  of  the 
fishermen  brought  the  fish  he  had  caught,  and  threwthem  at  Pythius  f ee  . 
CaZwondeiil:   '<  What  means  this,  Pythius  ^     Howl  so  maiiy  hsU 
here   and  so  many  boats  !"     "Nothing  to  wonder  at,    says  Pjthius  , 
"111'  the  fish  of  Syracuse  come  up  here.     It  is  he.e  «-_  fishermen  come 
for  water.     They   could   not  do  without  this   house.       Camus   then 
becomes  excited  ;  he  presses,  solicits  Pythius  to  sell  him  the  house. 
Pythl    first  holds  back,  but  at  last  gives  in.     The  Ronian  patrician 
gfves  h  m  all  he  asks  for  it,  and  buys  it  all  furnished      The  contract  is 
Twunp,  and  the  bargain  concluded.     The  -t  day,  Canius  inv^ 
his  friends,  and  comes  himself  early  in  the  morning  ;  but  not  a  boa     s 
hi  sight.     He  inquires  of  the  first  neighbor  if  it  was  a  holiday  with  the 
fishermen,  that  lie  did  not  see  any  about.      "Not  t^^t  I  know 
renlied  the  neighbor  ;  "but  they  never  come  this  way,  and  I  did  not 
know   see  n"  them  .'esterday,  what  it  all  meant."     Canius  was  no  less 
SiaTt  than  surprised.     But  what  remedy  ?    Aqiulliiis,  niy  col  eague 
and  friend,  had  not  yet  established  his  formulas  on  fraudulent  acts. 

46  The  price  in  selling.-K  we  adhere  to  the  principles 
of  political  economy,  the  price  in  selling  is  entirely  free :  it 
depends  exclusively  upon  the  agreement  between  the  vender 
and  the  buyer,  and  as  it  is  said,  on  the  relation  between  he 
supply  and  demand.  Nothing  more  unjust  than  the  inter- 
vention of  the  law  in  commercial  relations.  .1^  ^he  buyer 
buys  at  such  or  such  a  price,  however  high,  it  is  that  he  still 
finds  it  to  his  interest  to  buy  even  at  that  rate.  If  the  vender 
sells  at  such  or  such  a  price,  however  low,  it  is  that  he  cannot 
.et  more,  and  that  it  suits  him  rather  to  sell  at  that  price  than 

keep  the  thing.  ,  .        ,    .         ,    ,,  ^ 

It  is  then  certain  that  the  value  of  things  being  wholly 
relative,  it  is  impossible  to  determine  in  an  absolute  manner 
what  may  be  called  the  just  price;  for  that  depends  on 
the  frequency  and  rarity  of   the  tiring,  on  the   market,  on 

♦  De  0,tfkiis,  Book  IIT.,  cli.  -xiv. 


DUTIES  CONCEKXIXG  THE  PROPERTY  OF  OTHERS.       85 

tlie  wishes  of  the  buyer,  and  the  thousand  continually  vary- 
ing circumstances.  In  short,  the  sale  taking  place  when  one 
Avishing  to  sell  and  one  wishing  to  buy,  meet  each  other,  it 
seems  that  their  accord  is  a  proof  that  the  two  interested 
parties  have  come  to  an  understanding.  There  would,  accord- 
ing to  that,  never  be  any  unjust  sale  or  purchase.  We  must 
consequently  consider  the  definition  of  commerce  given  by  the 
socialist,  Ch.  Fourier :  "  Commerce  is  the  art  of  buying  for 
three  cents  what  is  worth  six,  and  selling  for  six  what  is  worth 
three,"  not  only  as  satirical  and  hyperbolical,  but  also  as 
unjust  and  anti-scientific ;  for  we  cannot  say  whether  a  thing 
is  in  itself  absolutely  Avorth  six  cents  or  three  cents. 

Does  it  follow,  however,  that  there  can  never  be  any  injus- 
tice in  sale  or  purchase  1  If  there  is  no  absolute  price,  there 
is  a  medium  price  resulting  from  the  state  of  the  market. 
I^ow,  the  buyer  may  not  know  this  medium  price ;  and  it  is 
an  injustice  on  the  part  of  the  seller  to  take  advantage  of  this 
ignorance  to  sell  above  that.  The  same  in  the  case  of  the 
vender's  not  knowing  the  price  of  the  thing  he  has  for  sale, 
which  the  buyer  appropriates,  paying  for  it  below  its  real  value. 

Besides,  whilst  admitting  that  the  prices  are  free,  and  that 
the  law  cannot  intervene  between  vender  and  buyer,  it  is, 
however,  necessary  to  admit  that  there  is  a  certain  moderation 
beyond  which  injustice  begins,  if  not  in  a  legal,  at  least  in  a 
moral  point  of  view.  But  it  is  for  particular  circumstances 
to  determine  tliis  limit ;  and  there  is  no  general  rule  for  it. 
It  is  a  case  where  not  strict  justice,  but  cquifii  is  just. 

47.  Violation  of  the  property  of  others. — Theft— In 
general,  every  kind  of  violation  of  property  under  one  form 
or  another,  is  called  theft,  and  this  action  is  condemned  by 
morality.  It  is  expressed  by  that  ancient  commandment : 
Thou  shall  not  steal. 

The  following  are  the  various  definitions  of  theft  given  by 
the  jurists  :  "  By  theft  is  meant  every  illegal  usurpation  of 
the  property  of  others."  * — ■"  By  theft  is  meant  every  fraudulent 

*  Definition  of  the  canon  law. 


CQ  ELEMENTS  OF  MORALS. 

carrying  off  for  gain  a  tloing  belonging  to  others  "  *      FinaUy 
our  Code  declares  that,  "whosoever  has  fraudulently  earned 
off  anything  that  does  not  belong  to  him,  is  gudty  of  theit. 
(Penal  Code,  Art.  379.) 

It  takes,  then,  three  elements  to  constitute  theft:  1,  car> y- 
inci  off;  2,  fraud  ;  3,  the  thing  of  another. 

Two  kinds  of  theft  are  distinguished :  the  dmple  thefts  and 
the  qualified  thefts. 

The  first  are  those  in  which  are  met  the  three  preceding 
elements,  but  without  any  further  aggravating  circumstance. 
The  second  (qualified  thefts)  are  those  which  to  the  three  pre- 
ceding elements  add  some  aggravating  circumstances.  ihese 
circumstances  are  :  1,  the  quality  of  the  agents  (servants,  inn- 
keepers, drivers  or  boatmen). 

It  is  clear  that  this  is  an  aggravating  circumstance  by  reason 
of  the  facility  given  by  the  more  intimate  relations  m  which 
they  stand  with  the  injured  persons,  and  the  greater  confidence 
these  are  obliged  to  grant  them. 

2  Times  and  places.-¥ov  example,  thefts  committed  by 
nicht  are  more  grave  than  those  committed  by  day  because 
it  is  more  difficult  to  anticipate  them,  to  catch  their  per- 
petrators, and  because  they  place  the  injured  person  m  greater 
danc^er      The  places  that  aggravate  theft  are:  1,  the  fields; 

2,  inhabited  houses;  3,  edifices  consecrated  to  divmo  wor- 
ship- 4,  highways,  ete.  It  is  easy  to  understand  why  these 
diffe;ent  places  aggravate  the  crime  by  rendering  it  more  easy 

3  Circumstances  of  execution,  as  for  example  :^  i,  tiieit 
committed   by   ...^aZ  persons ;  2,  theft  by    IrreaUng   open; 

3,  theft  with  an  armed  hand,  etc. 

In  a  word,  theft  becomes  greater  in  proportion  to  the  diili- 
culty  of  forestalling  it,  and  its  menacing  character. 

One  particular  form  of  theft  is  swindling.  Swindling  i  a 
sort  of  theft,  since  it  is  a  fraudulent  Wopnation  of  the 
thine,  of  another.  But  it  is  characterized  by  the  fact  that  it 
does°not  take   place  through  violence,  but  through  cunning, 

*  Digest,  II.,  §  3,  De  Furtis. 


DUTIES  CONCERNING  THE    PROPERTY  OF  OTHERS.      87 

anil  ill  deceiving  the  victim  hy  fraudulent  maneuvers ;  for  in- 
stance, in  making  him  believe  in  the  existence  of  false  enter- 
prises, in  an  imaginary  power  or  credit,  in  calling  forth  the 
hope  and  fear  of  a  chimerical  event,  etc. 

Evihezzlement  is  a  sort  of  swindling,  with  this  difference, 
that  "  if  the  criminal  has  betrayed  the  confidence  which  has 
been  placed  in  him,  he  has  not  solicited  this  confidence  1)y 
criminal  maneuvers."  Among  these  may  be  classed  :  1,  taking 
improper  advantage  of  the  wants  of  a  minor ;  2,  misuse  of 
letters  of  confidence ;  3,  embezzlement  of  trusts ;  4,  the  a}> 
straction  of  documents  produced  in  court. 

We  have  to  point  out  still  several  other  kinds  of  theft :  for 
example,  theft  at  gamhling  or  cheathig  ;  theft  of  public  moneys 
or  peculation,  etc. 

In  one  word,  under  whatever  form  it  may  be  concealed, 
misappropriation  of  another's  goods  is  always  a  theft.  In 
popular  opinion  it  often  seems,  as  if  theft  really  takes  place 
only  when  the  criminal  takes  violent  possession  of  another's 
property.  Very  often  a  few  false  appearances  suffice  to  con- 
ceal to  the  eyes  of  easy  consciences  the  hatefulness  and 
shamefuhiess  of  fraudulent  spoliations.  One  who  would 
scruple  to  take  a  piece  of  money  from  the  purse  of  another, 
may  have  no  scruple  in  deceiving  stockholders  with  fictitious 
advertisements,  and  appropriate  capital  by  fraudulent  man- 
euvers. Theft  thus  committed  on  a  large  scale  is  still  more 
culpable,  perhaps,  than  the  act  of  him  who,  through  want, 
ignorance,  hereditary  vices,  never  knew  of  any  other  means 
of  living  than  T)y  theft. 

48.  Restitution. — He  who  has  taken  possession  of  any- 
thing that  belongs  to  another,  or  retains  it  for  any  cause,  is 
held  to  restitution  as  a  reparation  of  his  fault.  This  restitu- 
tion must  be  made  as  soon  as  possible  ;  otherwise  it  is  neces- 
sary to  obtain  an  extension  of  time  from  the  injured  person. 
If  the  thing  has  been  lost,  restitution  should  no  less  be  made 
under  some  form  of  compensation.  Restitution  is  independent 
of  the  penilty  att:iclie<l  to  the  damagt;  and  fault. 


88  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

49.  Promises  and  contracts. — We  have  seen  above  that 
it  is  an  absolute  obligation  for  man  to  use  language  only  so  as 
to  express  the  truth.  Hence  every  word  given  becomes 
essentially  obligatory.  But  it  is  as  yet  only  a  duty  of  the 
man  towards  himself.  We  have  to  see  wherein  and  how  the 
Avord  given  may  become  a  duty  towards  others.  This  is  the 
case  with  promises  and  contracts. 

Promises. — A  promise  is  the  act  whereby  one  gives  his 
word  to  another  either  to  give  him  something  or  do  something 
for  him. 

According  to  jurists,  a  promise  is  obligatory  only  when 
accepted  by  him  to  whom  it  is  made. 

Pollicitation  {■^mmi'SQ)  says  Pothier,*  produces  no  obligation  properly 
so  called,  and  he  who  has  made  such  a  promise  may,  as  long  as  that 
promise  has  not  been  accepted  by  him  to  whom  it  was  made,  revoke  it  ; 
for  there  can  be  no  obligation  without  a  right  acquired  by  the  person 
to  whom  it  has  been  made  and  against  the  one  under  obligation.  Now, 
as  I  cannot  of  my  own  free  will,  transfer  to  any  one  a  right  over  my 
property,  if  his  own  will  does  not  concur  \vith  mine  in  accepting  it ;  so 
I  cannot,  by  my  promise,  gi-ant  any  one  a  right  over  my  person,  until 
that  one's  will  concurs  with  mine  in  acquiring  it  by  the  acceptance  of 
my  promise. 

It  may  be  true  that  in  strict  law,  and  from  the  standpoint  of 
positive  law,  the  promise  may  be  obligatory  only  and  capable 
of  enforcement  Avlien  it  has  been  accepted,  and  accepted  in  an 
obvious  and  open  way ;  but  in  natural  law  and  in  morality,  the 
promise  is  obligatory  in  itself.  Of  course,  it  is  understood  that 
the  promise  bears  on  something  advantageous  to  him  to  whom 
we  make  it ;  for  if  I  promise  some  one  a  thrashing,  it  cannot  be 
maintained  that  I  am  obliged  to  give  it  to  him ;  and  if  he  to 
whom  I  make  the  promise  will  not  receive  Avhat  I  offer,  I  am 
by  that  very  fact  relieved  from  my  promise ;  for  one  cannot  give 
anything  to  another  against  his  will;  I  am  under  no  obligation 
to  liim  Avbo  will  not  receive  anything  from  me.  But  if  the 
promise  bears  on  something  advantageous  to  any  one,  I  am 
obliged  to  keep  it  without  asking  myself  whether  he  to  whom 

*  TraiU  des  obligations,  Part  I.,  ch.  i.,  §  2. 


DUTIES  CONCERJiTING  THE   PROPERTY  OF  OTHERS.      89 

I  made  it,  is  disposed  to  accept  it ;  presuming  still  that  he 
will  accept  it.  It  is  therefore  not  the  explicit  acceptance  of  a 
thmg  that  renders  the  promise  obligatory ;  it  is  the  explicit 
refusal  which  relieves  one  of  the  promise  ;  and  together  with 
that  it  would  be  necessary  that  the  refusal  be  absolute  and 
not  contingent ;  for  even  then  the  promise  may  remain  obliga- 
tory, at  least  in  its  general  principles,  Avhile  undergoing  some 
modification  in  the  execution. 

Is  one  obliged  to  keep  his  promise  when  the  fulfillment  of 
it  is  injurious  to  those  to  Avhom  it  was  made  1  "  ^o,"  says 
Cicero  ;  for  example  : 

Sol  had  promised  Pliaethon,  his  son,  to  fulfil  all  his  wishes.  Phae- 
thon  wished  to  get  on  the  chariot  of  his  father  ;  he  got  his  wish,  but  at 
the  same  instant  he  was  struck  with  lightning.  It  would  have  been 
better  for  him  had  his  father  not  kept  his  promise.  May  we  not  say 
the  same  of  the  one  Theseus  claimed  of  Neptune  ?  This  god  having 
made  him  the  promise  to  grant  him  three  wishes,  Theseus  wished  for 
the  death  of  his  son  Hippolytus,  whom  he  suspected  of  criminal  love.'" 
How  bitter  the  tears  he  shed  when  his  wish  was  accomplished  !  "What 
shall  we  say  of  Agamemnon  ?  He  had  made  a  vow  to  immolate  the 
most  beautiful  object  in  his  kingdom  ;  this  was  Iphigenia ;  and  he  im- 
molated her;  this  cruel  action  was  worse  than  perjury. 

The  truth  uf  this  doctrine  cannot  be  contested.  However, 
it  is  necessary  to  understand  this  exception  in  the  strictest 
sense,  and  not  to  seek  in  the  pretended  interest  of  the  person 
one  obliges,  a  pretext  to  change  one's  mind.  For  example, 
if  you  have  promised  any  one  a  post  which  he  accepts  and 
desires,  you  cannot  be  allowed  to  relieve  yourself  of  it,  by 
supposing  that  the  post  Avill  in  reality  be  a  disadvantage  to 
him,  and  that  you  will  give  him  a  better  one  another  time. 

Some  other  exceptions  are  pointed  out  by  the  moralists  and 
jurists  ;  for  example  : 

1.  Necessity  relieves  of  all  j)romise.  If,  for  example,  I 
have  promised  to  go  to  a  meeting  and  am  kept  in  bed  by  a 
serious  illness,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  go,  and  hence  I  am 
reheved  of  my  promise. 

*  See  Racine's  tragedy  of  Phedre. 


90  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

2.  One  is  not  obliged  to  perform  illicit  acts :  "  for,"  says 
Puffendorf,  "  it  would  be  a  contradiction,  to  be  held  by  civil 
or  moral  law,  to  perform  things  which  the  civil  or  moral  law 
interdicts.  It  is  already  doing  wrong  to  promise  illicit  things, 
and  it  is  doing  wrong  twice  to  perform  them."  * 

3.  One  cannot  promise  what  belongs  to  another :  for  I  can- 
not promise  what  I  cannot  dispose  of. 

50.  Contracts. — A  contract  is  an  agreement  by  which  one 
or  several  persons  engage  to  do  or  not  to  do  a  certain  thing 
for  one  or  several  others.     (Code  Civ.,  Art.  1101.) 

Conditions  of  the  contract  (Art.  1108). — Four  conditions 
are  necessary  to  constitute  a  valid  and  legitimate  agreement : 

1.  The  consent  of  the  parties. 

2.  The  capacity  of  the  contractors. 

3.  A  sure  ohject  as  a  basis  for  the  contract. 

4.  A  licit  cause  in  the  obligation. 

(1).  The  consent. — The  consent  is  the  voluntary  acceptance 
of  the  charges  implied  in  the  contract.  It  is  express  or  im- 
plied :  express,  when  it  is  made  manifest  by  words,  writing,  or 
any  other  kind  of  expressive  signs.  It  is  implied,  when, 
without  being  expressed  by  outward  signs,  it  may  be  deduced, 
as  a  manifest  consequence  of  the  very  nature  of  the  thing, 
and  other  circumstances. 

All  consent  presupposes,  1 ,  the  use  of  reason :  the  insane 
cannot  contract  any  obligation  ;  children  neither  ;  t  2,  neces- 
sary knowledge.  Therefore  all  real  consent  excludes  error, 
at  least  "  when  it  falls  on  the  very  substance  of  the  thing 
which  is  its  object."  t  It  is,  besides,  for  the  jurists  to 
define  with  precision  what  is  to  be  understood  by  error  in 
matter  of  contract ;  3,  the  liberty  of  the  contracting  parties  : 

*  Puffcndnrf,  Of  the  Duties  of  Man  and  the  Citizen,  ii.,  c.  ix.,  §  18. 

t  In  tlie  United  States  children  can,  in  the  case  of  neglect  by  their  parents,  mai;e 
contracts  which  are  obligatory  for  whatever  is  necessary  for  them. 

J  Our  Code  does  not  admit  that  a  mistake  touching  the  person,  vitiates  the  con- 
sent of  the  contractors,  unless  this  consideration  be  the  principal  cause  of  the  agree- 
ment. 


DUTIES  COXCEE2fI2fG  THE    PKOPEKTT  OF  OTHERS.      91 

whence  it  follows  that  consent  extorted  by  constraint  and 
violence  is  not  valid. 

(2.)  The  capidiij  to  make  a  contract  is  deduced  from  the 
foregoing  principles.  Ail  those  who  are  not  supposed  to  be 
able  to  give  an  intelligent  and  free  consent,  are  incapable  and 
cannot  make  contracts  :  for  instance,  persons  under  age,  per- 
sons interdicted,  insane  or  idiots,  etc. 

(3.)  The  riKctter  of  a  coritrart — "All  contract  has  for  its 
object  something  that  a  certain  party  engages  to  give,  or  do  or 
not  do."  It  is  evident  that  a  contract  without  subject-matter 
and  bearing  on  nothing,  is  void,  and  does  not  exist. 

(4.)  The  cause  of  the  contract  must  be  real  and  legal. 
Contracts  are  subject  here  to  the  same  rules  as  are  promises. 

The  preceding  distinctions  are  all  borrowed  from  the  civ  il 
law  ;  but  they  express  no  less  principles  of  justice  and  equity 
which  may  be  resolved  into  the  following  rules  : 

1.  Xo  one  should  take  by  surprise  or  extort  a  consent 
through  artifice  or  violence. 

2.  No  one  shoidd  make  a  contract  M'ith  one  whom  he  knows 
to  be  incapable  of  understanding  the  value  of  the  engage- 
ment he  is  called  upon  to  make  :  for  example,  with  one  under 
age,  incapable  before  the  law,  but  of  whom  it  is  known  that 
the  parents  will  pay  the  debts ;  or  with  one  feeble-minded, 
though  not  yet  an  interdicted  person,  etc. 

3.  No  one  should  contract  a  fictitious  engagement  bearing 
on  matters  non-existing,  or  such  as  have  only  an  imaginary  or 
illegal  cause. 

Interpretation  of  contracts.— 5 wrhts  give  the  following  rules 
regarding  the  interpretation  of  obscure  clauses  in  contracts. 
The  rules  which  are  to  guide  the  judge  in  regard  to  the  law 
arc  the  same  as  those  which  are  to  enlighten  the  consciences 
of  the  interested  parties  : 

"  1.  One  should,  in  agreements,  find  out  the  mutual  inten- 
tion of  tlie  contracting  parties,  rather  than  stop  at  the  literal 
sense  of  the  words."     (Art.  1156.) 

"  2.   ^A^len  a  clause  is  susceptible  of  a  double  meaning,  one 


93  ELEMEXTS   OF   MORALS. 

sliorJd  understand  it  in  the  sense  in  which  it  may  have  some 
efifect,  rather  than  in  the  one  in  which  it  woidd  not  have 
any."     (Art.  1157.) 

"  4.  That  which  is  amhignous  is  to  be  interpreted  by  what 
is  customary  in  the  country  where  the  contract  is  made." 
(Art.  1159.) 

"  5.  One  should  supply  in  a  contract  its  customary  clauses, 
though  they  be  not  therein  expressed."     (Art.  1160.) 

"  6.  AH  the  clauses  of  agreements  are  to  be  interpreted  by 
one  another,  giving  each  the  sense  which  results  from  the  en- 
tire document."     (Art.  1161.) 

"  7.  If  doubtful,  the  agreement  is  to  be  interpreted  against 
the  stipulator,  and  in  favor  of  him  who  contracted  the  obliga- 
tion."    (Art.  1162.) 


CHAPTER  Y. 

DUTIES  TOWARDS  THE  LIBERTY  AND  TOWAPDS  THE 
HOXOR  OF  OTHERS. — JUSTICE,  DISTRIBUTIVE  AND  RE- 
IIUNERATIVE  ;    EQXITT. 


SUMMARY. 

Liberty  in  general. — Xatural  rights. 

Slavery. — Arguments  of  J.  J.  Rousseau  against  slavery,  servitude;  op- 
pression of  work  uiiiler  divers  forms. 

The  honor  of  others. — Backbiting  and  slander. 

Rash  judgments. ^Analysis  of  a  treatise  of  Xicole. — Envy;  rancor; 
delation. 

Justice,  distributive  and  remunerative. — To  each  according  to  his 
merits  and  his  works.     Equity. 

Afteii  self-preservation,  the  most  sacred  ^jrerogative  of  man 
is  liberty — that  is  to  say,  the  right  of  using  his  faculties,  both 
pliysical  and  moral,  without  injury  to  others,  at  his  own  risks 
and  perils,  and  on  his  own  responsibility. 

51.  Liberty— Natural  rights. — The  word  liberty  sums  up 
all  that  is  understood  by  the  natural  lights  of  man,  namely, 
the  right  to  go  and  come,  or  individual  liberty  ;  the  right  to 
use  his  physical  faculties  to  supply  his  wants,  or  liberty  of 
work ;  the  right  to  exercise  his  intelligence  and  reason,  or 
liberty  of  thowjht ;  the  right  to  honor  God  according  to  his 
lights,  or  liberty  of  conscience  ;  the  right  to  have  a  family,  a 
wife  and  children,  or  the  family  right,  and  finally  the  right 
to  keep  what  he  has  acquired,  or  the  right  of  property. 

52.  Slavery. — The  privation  of  all  these  rights,  of  all 
these  liberties  in  an  individual,  is  called  slavery.  Slaver}'  is 
the  suppression  of  the  humau  personality.       It  consists  in 


94 


ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 


tonsforming  man  iuto  a  »«;,.     It  takes  away  fro.n   ,un  tl,e 
*  A   0    property  and  makes  of  himself  a  p^operty^    The  slav 
fs  WM  and  sold  as  a  tbmg.     The  fruits  o    his  labor  do  not 
heloT^to  hin. ;  he  cannot  come  and  go  at  wrU    he  can  ne.^« 
think  nor  beUeve  freely  ;  in  some  countries  he    s  interdicted 
t"  of  instructing  himself ;  he  has  no  famdy,  or  has  one 
temporarily  only,  since  his  wife  or  chQdreu  may  be  separately 
sXaud  since  the  women  belong  to  their  masters  as  their 
p,„perty,  there  is  no  bruUc  against  the  license  of  P«s. 
'    I^th'igh  slavery  is  at  the  present  day  well-nigh  abolish  d 
in  the  world,  stiU  as  it  is  not  yet  wholly  so,  and  as  this  abo- 
lion  is  qu  te  recent,  and  tends  constantly  to  be  renewed 
nder  one  form  or  another,  it  is  important  to  sum  up  the 
principal  reasons  that  show  the  immorality  and  iniquity  of 


tliis  institution 


LS  institution.  c   i     i    nnntcpaii 

53    Refutation  of  slavery-Opinion  of  J.  J.  ..ous.eau 
oo.   ncsuiai  n   J:.i    ^nridJ   (I    iv.),  combated 

_-J    ,T    Eousseaii,    m   liis  tout i tit   ^otua    (,i.,  i-^-h 
slavery  with  as  inucli  profundity  as  eloquence.     Let  us  sum 
uv)  his  arguments  with  a  few  citations :  ,,  , 

'  1  Sbverv  cannot  arise  from  a  contract  between  the  master 
and  the  sla;e ;  for  to  cnsent  to  slavery  is  to  renoiince  one  s 
manhood,  of  which  no  one  can  dispose  at  his  will. 

To  renounce  ones  liberty  is  to  renounce  ones  -''■■'■7';;°fJf,„';tS 

ot  >.u„.ni,y,  even  ^^^^^^:z:::s:Tt^:^"^ 

will  of  all  liberty. 

2  Such  a  contract  is  contradictory,  for  the  slave  giving 
himself  wholly  and  without  reserve,  can  receive  nothing  m 
return. 

It  is  a  vain  and  contradictory  agreement  to  stipulate  au  absoMc  au- 

rr.i:t^ro:t;i:noXr.t:::ir-^^^^^^^^ 

"  ■  .t::  ZL.  everything  ,  and  does  not  this  sm.;--  '  -;     ; 
out"  .mivalent,  without  exchange,  carry  .ath  .t  the  ''""">  °'' 
ror  rtal  right  could  my  slave  h.ve  against  me,  s,n«  all  h.  ha.  belongs 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   THE    LIBERTY   OF    OTHERS.  95 

to  me,  and  that  liis  right  being  my  own,  this  my  right  against  myself 
is  a  word  without  anj'  sense. 

3.  Even  if  one  had  the  right  to  sell  one's  self,  one  has  not 
the  right  to  sell  one's  children.  Slavery  at  least  should  not 
be  hereditary. 

Admitting  that  one  could  alienate  himself,  he  could  not  alienate  his 
children  ;  they  are  born  men  and  free  ;  their  liberty  is  their  own  ;  no 
one  has  a  right  to  dispose  of  it  but  themselves. 

Before  they  have  reached  the  age  of  reason,  their  father  may,  in  tlieir 
name,  stipulate  conditions  for  their  welfare,  but  not  give  them  irrev- 
ocably and  unconditionally  over  to  another  ;  for  such  a  gift  is  contrary 
to  the  ends  of  nature,  and  passes  the  rights  of  paternity. 

4.  Slaverj",  furthermore,  conies  not  from  the  right  of  killing 
in  war ;  for  this  right  does  not  exist. 

The  conqueror,  according  to  Grotius,  having  the  right  to  kill  the 
conquered  enemy,  the  latter  maj-  ransom  his  life  at  the  expense  of  his 
liberty  :  an  agreement  all  the  more  legitimate,  as  it  turns  to  the  profit 
of  both. 

But  it  is  clear  that  this  pretended  right  to  kill  the  conquered  adver- 
sary does  not  result  in  any  way  from  the  state  of  war.  .  .  .  One  has  a 
right  to  kill  the  defenders  of  the  enemy's  State  as  long  as  they  hold  to 
their  arms  ;  but  when  they  lay  these  down  and  surrender,  and  cease  to 
be  enemies,  they  become  simply  men  again,  and  one  has  no  longer  a 
right  on  their  life. 

If  war  does  not  give  the  conqueror  the  right  of  massacring  the  con- 
quered, it  does  not  give  him  the  right  of  reducing  them  to  slavery.  .  .  . 
The  right  of  making  of  the  enemy  a  slave,  does  not  then  follow  the 
right  of  killing  him  ;  it  is  then  an  iniquitous  exchange  to  make  him 
buy  his  life  at  the  price  of  his  liberty,  over  which  one  has  no  right 
whatsoever. 

Montesquieu  has  also  combated  slavery ;  but  he  has  done 
it  under  a  form  of  irony,  which  gives  still  greater  force  to  his 
eloquence. 

"  If  I  had  to  defend  the  right  Ave  have  had  to  make  slaves 
of  the  negroes,  this  is  what  I  should  say  : 

"The   peoples   of   Europe   having   exterminated    those   of 


9G  ELEMENTS   OF    MOKALS. 

America,  they  were  obliged  to  reduce  to  slavery  those  of 
Africa  in  order  to  use  them  to  clear  the  lands. 

"  Sugar  would  be  too  dear  if  the  plant  that  produces  it 
were  not  cultivated  by  slaves. 

'•'  The  people  in  question  are  black  from  head  to  foot,  and 
they  have  so  flat  a  nose  that  it  is  almost  impossible  to  pity 
them. 

"  One  cannot  conceive  that  God,  who  is  a  being  most  wise, 
could  have  put  a  soul,  and  above  all  a  good  soul,  in  so  black 
a  body. 

"It  is  impossible  for  us  to  suppose  that  these  people  are 
men ;  because  if  we  supposed  them  to  be  men,  one  might 
begin  to  think  we  are  not  Christians  ourselves. 

"  Xarrow  minds  exaggerate  too  much  the  injustice  done  to 
Africans.  For  if  it  were  as  they  say,  Avould  it  not  have  come 
to  the  minds  of  the  princes  of  Europe,  who  make  so  many 
useless  contracts  among  each  other,  to  make  a  general  one  in 
favor  of  mercy  and  of  pity?"* 

54.  Servitude— Restrictions  of  the  liberty  to  work- 
Oppression  of  children  under  age,  etc. — Absolute  slavery 
existed  in  antiquity,  and  has  particularly  reappeared  since 
the  discovery  of  America,  owing  to  the  difference  of  the  races  : 
the  black  race  being,  seemingly,  particularly  adapted  to  the 
cultivation  of  the  torrid  zones,  and  endowed  with  great  phys- 
ical vitality,  became  the  serving-race  ^:»or  excellence:  it  has 
even  been  hunted  down  for  purposes  of  procreation ;  hence 
that  infamous  traffic,  called  slave  trade,  and  which  is  to-day 
interdicted  by  all  civilized  countries. 

But  there  existed  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  has  subsisted 
even  to  these  days,  in  Kussia,  for  example,  a  relative  slavery, 
less  rigorous  and  odious,  but  which,  though  circumscribed 
witliin  certain  limits,  was  not  the  less  a  grave  outrage  to 
lil)erty.     The  serf  was  allowed  a  family,  and  even  a  certain 

*  Esprit  lies  Lois,  XV.,  iv.  The  stipulations  which  Montesquieu  demanded  have 
been  made,  and  have  led  to  the  suppression,  or  at  least  to  a  great  diminution,  of  the 
slave-trade. 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   THE    LIBERTY  OF   OTHERS.  97 

amount  of  money ;  but  the  ground  which  he  cultivated  could 
never  belong  to  him ;  and  above  all  he  could  not  leave  this 
ground,  nor  make  of  liis  work  and  services  the  use  he  wished. 
It  was  certainly  less  of  an  injustice  than  slavery;  but  it  was 
still  an  injustice.  However,  this  injustice  exists  to-day  no 
longer  than  as  an  historical  memory.  Morality  has  no  longer 
anything  to  do  with  it. 

It  is  the  same  with  the  restrictions  formerly  imposed  on 
the  freedom  of  work  under  the  old  administration  (ancien 
regime),  the  organization  of  maitrises  and  jicraiides*  namely, 
and  that  of  corporations ;  the  work  was  under  regulations : 
each  trade  had  its  corporation,  which  no  one  could  enter  or 
leave  without  permission.  No  one  was  allowed  to  encroach 
upon  his  neighbor's  trade ;  the  barbers  defended  themselves 
against  the  wig-makers ;  the  bakers  against  the  pastry-cooks ; 
hence  rhuch  that  was  Avrong,  and  which  those  who  regret  this 
administration  have  forgotten. 

But  here  again,  it  is  the  object  of  history  to  inquire  into 
the  good  or  the  evil  of  these  institutions  ;  and  these  questions 
belong  rather  to  political  economy  than  to  morals. 

It  is  not  the  same  regarding  the  abuse  made  of  the  work  of 
children  and  minors,  or  the  work  of  woinen.  Severe  laws 
have  forbidden  such ;  but  it  is  always  to  be  feared  that  man- 
ners get  the  better  of  the  laws.  The  work  of  children  and 
women  being  naturally  cheaper  than  the  work  of  men  and 
adults,  one  is  tempted  to  make  use  of  it ;  but  the  work  of 
children  is  improper  because  it  is  taking  advantage  of  and 
using  up  beforehand  a  constitution  not  yet  established,  and 
also  because  it  is  thus  depriving  children  of  the  means  of 
being  educated.  As  to  girls  and  women,  in  abusing  their 
strength,  one  compromises  their  health,  and  contributes  thereby 
to  the  impoverishment  of  the  race. 


*  By  m-aUrise  was  understood  the  rank  or  degree  of  master  ;  and  jurandes  was  the 
name  of  an  annual  office  by  means  of  which  the  affairs  of  the  corporation  were 
administered  :  it  also  meant  the  assembly  of  workmen,  who  had  lent  the  customary 
oath. 

5 


98  ELEMEXTS    OF    MORALS. 

Among  the  violations  tlie  liberty  of  Avork  may  suffer,  we 
must  not  forget  the  threats  aud  violences  exercised  by  the 
workers  themselves  and  inflicted  upon  eacli  other.  It  is  not 
rare,  in  fact,  in  times  of  strikes,  to  see  the  workmen  who  do 
not  work  try  to  impose,  by  main  force,  their  will  on  those 
that  are  at  work.  Such  violences,  wluch  have  their  source  in 
false  ideas  of  brotherhood  (a  mistaken  esp-it  de  corps),  and  in 
a  false  sense  of  honor,  constitute,  nevertheless,  even  when 
free  from  the  coarse  enmity  of  laziness  and  vice,  waging  war 
with  work  and  honesty — a  grave  violation  of  liberty ;  and  it 
may  be  considered  a  sort  of  slavery  and  servitude  to  suffer 
them. 

It  is  the  same  with  the  attempts  by  which  men  try  to  for- 
bid to  women  factory  work,  under  pretext  that  it  brings  the 
wages  down. 

This  reason,  in  the  first  place,  is  a  bad  one,  because  the  wo- 
man's earnings  come  in  the  end  all  back  to  the  family,  increas- 
ing by  that  much  more  the  share  of  each.  But  by  what  right 
should  work  be  prohibited  to  woman  more  than  to  man  1  Cer- 
tainly it  would  be  desirable  if  the  woman  could  stay  at  home, 
and  busy  herself  exclusively  with  the  cares  of  the  household ; 
but  in  the  present  state  of  thmgs  such  an  ideal  is  not  possible. 
It  is  then  necessary  that  woman,  who  has,  like  man,  her 
rights  as  a  moral  personality,  should  be  allowed  by  her  every- 
day work  to  make  a  living,  under  the  protection  of  the  laws, 
and  at  her  own  risks  anil  perils. 

55.  Moral  oppression— Inward  liberty  and  responsi- 
bility.— The  question  is  not  only  one  of  corporal  liberty,  the 
liberty  to  work  ;  the  laws  in  a  certain  measure  provide  for 
that,  and  one  can  appeal  to  their  authority  for  self-protection. 
But  there  may  exist  a  sort  of  moral  bondage,  which  consists  in 
the  subordination  of  one  will  to  another.  It  is  here  that 
the  respect  we  owe  to  others  calls  for  a  more  dehcate  and  a 
more  strict  sense  of  justice  :  for  this  sort  of  slavery  is  not  so 
obvious,  and  the  love  we  bear  to  others  may  be  the  very  thing 
to  lead  us  into  error. 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   THE   LIBERTY    OF   OTHERS.  99 

56.  Violation  of  the  honor  of  others— Backbiting  and 
slander. — Among  the  first  rights  of  a  man,  there  is  one^ 
sometimes  forgotten,  although  it  is  one  of  the  most  essential, 
and  this  is  his  right  to  honor. 

In  our  ignorance  of  most  men's  actions,  and  in  all  cases  of 
the  real  motives  of  these  actions,  it  is  a  duty  for  us  to 
respect  in  others  what  we  wish  they  should  respect  in  us : 
namely,  our  honor  and  our  respectability.  In  fact,  it  is  very 
difficidt  for  men  to  form  true  judgments  regarding  each  other. 
For  fear  of  committing  an  injustice,  it  is  better  not  to  judge 
at  aU  than  to  judge  wrongly. 

There  are  two  ways  of  violating  other  people's  honor :  hacJi-- 
hitinf]  and  slander.  Backbiting  consists  in  saying  evil  of 
others,  either  deservedly  or  undeservedly ;  but  when  imde- 
servedly,  and  especially  when  one  knows  it  to  be  so,  backbiting 
becomes  slander.  Backbiting  may  arise  from  ill-will  or 
thoughtlessness,  and  slander  is  the  work  of  baseness  and  perfidy. 

Backbiting  Avhich  consists  in  saying  evil  of  others  de- 
servedly, is  not  in  itself  an  injustice :  there  is  to  be 
recognized  the  right  and  jurisdiction  of  public  opinion. 
The  honest  man  should  be  held  in  greater  esteem  tlian 
the  rogue,  even  though  the  latter  cannot  be  reached  by 
the  law.  iS'evertheless,  backbiting  becomes  an  injustice 
through  the  abuse  that  is  made  of  it.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  severe  judgments  touching  actions  deserving  blame 
and  contempt.  It  is  a  question  of  thoughtless  and  unkind 
judgments,  and  which  we  are  aU  too  easily  and  readily  inclined 
to  pronounce  upon  others,  forgetting  that  we  deserve  ourselves 
as  many  and  severer  ones.  How  shall  we  conciliate,  however, 
the  just  severity  which  vice  deserves,  with  the  spirit  of  kind- 
ness which  charity  and  brotherly  love  demand  of  us?  On  the 
one  hand,  an  excess  of  kindness  seems  to  weaken  the  horror 
of  evil,  to  put  on  the  same  level  the  honest  man  and  the 
rogue  ;  on  the  other,  the  habit  of  speaking  evil  weakens  the 
bonds  of  human  society,  sets  men  against  each  other,  and  is 
always,  in  a  certain  measure,  a  shortcoming  of  sincerity  ;  for 


100  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

oue  liarcUy  ever  tells  to  people's  faces  the  evil  one  saj's  of 
them  in  their  absence.  It  is  not  easy  to  find  the  just  medium 
between  these  two  extremes. 

It  may  be  laid  down  as  a  princ'ple  that,  except  the  casfc 
Avhere  notorious  vices,  contrary  to  honor,  comes  into  question,  it 
is  better  absolutely  to  abstain  from  speaking  evil  of  others. 
For,  either  the  question  is  of  persons  one  does  not  know,  or 
knows  inipevfecth',andthen  one  is  never  surenot  tobemistaken  ; 
and  most  of  the  time  one  judges  people  on  the  testimony  of 
others  only,  or  one  speaks  of  persons  whom  one  knows,  and 
with  whom  one  stands  in  more  or  less  friendly  relations ;  and 
then  backbiting  becomes  a  sort  of  treason.  Even  deserved 
blame  should  not  be  a  favorite  subject  of  conversation :  it  is 
an  imwholesome  and  ungenerous  pleasure  to  lay  any  stress 
upon  the  weakness  of  others.  If,  at  least,  one  accepted  with 
it  the  right  of  others  to  judge  us  with  the  same  severity,  such 
reciprocal  liberty  might  prove  of  some  utility;  but  the  back 
biter  nowise  admits  that  he  may  be  himself  the  subject  of 
back])iting  ;  and  at  the  very  moment  when  he  criticises  others, 
he  would  himself  be  very  much  offended  if  he  learned  that 
the  same  persons  had,  on  their  side,  been  doing  the  same  in 
regard  to  him. 

As  to  slander,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  much  on  the  subject 
to  show  to  what  degree  it  is  cowardly  and  criminal.  What 
makes  it,  above  all,  cowardly  is  that  it  is  always  very  difficult 
to  combat  and  refute  slander.  Often,  and  for  a  long  time,  it  is 
not  known  :  at  the  moment  when  one  hears  of  it,  it  has  taken 
roots  which  nothing  can  destroy.  One  does  not  know  who 
spread  it,  nor  whom  to  answer.  It  is,  besides,  often  impossible 
to  prove  a  negative  thing  :  namely,  that  one  has  done  no  harm, 
that  oue  has  not  committed  such  and  such  an  action,  and  said 
such  or  such  a  word.  One  always  confronts  the  well-accredited 
saying  :  "There  is  no  smoke  without  fire." 

The  wrong  done  by  slander  will  be  better  understood  by 
the  description  Beaumarchais  has  given  of  it : 

"  Slander,  sir— you  lianlly  know  how  great  a  thing  you  hold  in  con- 


DUTIES   TOWAEDS   THE    LIBERTY    OF   OTHERS.         101 

tempt :  I  have  seen  the  best  of  people  crushed  by  it.  Believe  me,  there 
is  no  flat  malice,  no  hateful  story,  no  absurd  tale  which  a  skillful 
mischief-maker  cannot  make  the  idlers  of  a  large  town  believe.  ...  At 
first,  a  slight  report,  just  grazing  the  ground  as  a  swallow  does  before 
the  storm :  murmuring  jjianissi/TW,  and  spinning  away,  it  launches  in 
its  course  the  poisoned  arrow.  A  certain  ear  is  open  to  take  it  in,  and 
it  is  deftly  wliispered  piano,  piano,  to  the  next.  The  harm  is  done  ;  it 
sprouts,  crawls,  makes  its  way  ;  and  rinforzando  from  mouth  to  mouth, 
goes  like  wildfire  ;  then  all  at  once,  you  scarcely  know  how,  you  see 
the  slander  rise  before  you,  whistling,  blowing,  growing  while  you  look 
at  it.  It  starts,  takes  its  flight,  whirls  about,  envelops,  pulls,  carries 
everything  along  with  it,  bursts  and  thunders,  and  becomes  a  general 
cry,  a  public  crescendo,  a  universal  chorus  of  hatred  and  proscription.  * 

57.  Rash  judgments. — We  call  rash  judgments  ill-natured 
remarks  made  about  others  Avithoiit  sufficient  knowledge  of 
facts.  It  is  through-  rash  judgments  one  becomes  often  the 
accomplice  of  slander,  without  knowing  it  and  without  wishing 
it.  Nicole,  in  his  Essais  de  Morale,  has  thoroughly  treated. 
the  question  of  rash  judgments.  AVe  have  but  to  give  here 
a  short  resume  of  his  Treatise  on  this  subject. 

1.  Rash  judgments  are  a  usurpation  of  God's  judgment. 

Rash  judgments  being  always  accompanied  by  ignorance  and  want 
of  knowledge,  are  a  manifest  injustice  and  a  presumptuous  usurpation 
of  God's  authority. 

2.  This  sin  has  degrees  according  to  the  quality  of  its 
object,  the  causes  from  which  it  springs,  and  the  effects  it  pro- 
duces. 

The  quality  of  the  object  increases  it  or  diminishes  it,  because  the 
more  things  are  important  the  more  is  one  obliged  to  be  cuxumspect 
and  reserved  in  the  judgments  one  pronounces.  + 

The  canoes  may  be  very  different : 

Oue  falls  into  it  sometimes  simply  from  over-hastiness.     Sometimes 

*  Beauraarcliais,  Barbier  de  Seville. 

t  Xipole  does  not  give  any  examples  ;  but  it  is  evident,  for  instance,  that  it  is  a 
graver  fault  to  rashly  incriminate  the  integrity  of  a  functionary  than  his  incapacity, 
the  chastity  of  a  woman  than  her  economy. 


102  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

we  are  led  into  it  through  the  presumptuous  attachment  we  have  for 
our  sentiments.  But  the  most  ordinary  source  of  this  ignorance  is  the 
maliciousness  which  causes  us  to  see  stains  and  defects  in  persons  which 
a  single  eye  would  never  discover  in  them.  .  .  .  It  causes  us  to  feel 
strongly  the  least  conjectures,  and  enlarges  in  our  eyes  the  slightest 
appearances.  We  believe  them  guilty  because  we  should  be  very  glad 
if  they  were. 

The  consequences  of  rasli  judgments  are  sometimes  terrible 
and  fatal. 

The  divisions  and  hatreds  which  disturb  human  society  and  extin- 
guish charity  come  generally  only  from  a  few  indiscreet  words  that  es- 
cape us  Moreover,  we  do  not  always  confine  ourselves  to  simple  judg- 
ments. We  pass  from  the  thoughts  of  the  mind  to  the  promptings  of 
the  heart.  We  conceive  aversion  and  contempt  for  those  we  have 
'•  thoughtlessly   condemned,    and   we   inspire   the   same    sentiments  in 

others.  .  , 

Rash  judgments  are  the  source  of  what -we  cb\\  prejudices  ;  or,  rather, 
prejudices  are  but  rash  judgments  fixed  and  permanent.  .  .  •  ^^^e 
portray  human  beings  to  ourselves  from  the  inconsiderate  remarks  made 
about  \hem  before  us,  and  we  then  adjust  all  their  other  actions  to  the 
ideas  we  have  formed  of  them.  It  serves  us  as  a  key  whereby  to  explain 
the  conduct  of  these  persons,  and  as  a  rule  for  our  conduct  towards 
them. 

3.  We  are  apt  to  delude  ourselves  as  to  the  motives  of  the 
judgments  Ave  pronounce. 

The  manner  in  which  we  conceal  from  ourselves  this  defect  is  very 
delicate  and  very  diflicult  to  avoid.  For  it  comes  from  the  bad  use  ^s^ 
make  of  a  maxim  very  true  in  itself  when  viewed  generally,  but  which 
in  private  we  imperceptibly  pervert.  This  maxim  is,  that  whilst  it  is 
forbidden  to  judge,  it  is  not  forbidden  to  see-that  is  to  say  to  give  one  s 
self  up  to  convincing  evidence.  Thus,  in  making  our  judgments  pass 
for  views  or  evidences,  we  shield  them  from  all  that  can  be  said  against 
the  rashness  of  our  judgments. 

To  enable  us  to  distrust  this  pretended  evidence,  it  would  onl>  be 
necessary  to  call  our  attention  upon  those  whom  we  think  guilty  ol  rash 
judgments  in  regard  to  us.  They  think  as  we  do,  that  the  rashest  o 
thetr  judgments  are  from  observation  evidently  true.  Who  then,  will 
assure  us  that  it  is  different  with  us,  and  that  we  are  the  only  ones  free 
from  this  illusion  ? 


DUTIES   TOWAEDS   THE    LIBERTY    OF   OTHERS.        103 

•i.  It  is  maintained  that  one  cannot  help  seeing  the  faults 
of  others  :  so  be  it ;  but  one  need  not  make  it  voluntarily  an 
object. 

It  may  be  said  that  we  cannot  help  but  sec.  But  that  is  not  true. 
It  is  rare  that  our  mind  is  so  violently  struck  that  it  cannot  help  de- 
ciding. It  is  generally  obliged  to  make  an  effort  to  look  at  things,  and 
it  is  this  voluntary  looking  at  the  faults  of  others  which  Christian  pru- 
dence should  correct  in  the  persons  whose  function  it  is  not  to  correct 
them. 

5.  Besides,  even  if  we  kncAv  the  evil  for  certain,  it  is  not 
for  us  to  make  it  known  to  otliers. 

Whatever  evidence  we  may  think  we  have  of  the  faults  of  our  neigh- 
bor, Christian  prudence  forbids  us  to  make  these  kno^^-n  to  others  when 
it  is  not  incumbent  on  us  or  useful  so  to  do.  .  .  .  This  exercise 
does  not  only  serve  in  regulating  our  speech  and  forestalling  the  conse- 
quences of  rash  judgments,  but  it  is  also  of  infinite  service  in  regulating 
the  mind  and  correcting  the  rashness  of  judgment  at  its  very  source  ; 
for  one  hardly  ever  allows  one's  mind  to  judge  the  faults  of  others,  ex- 
cept to  speak  about  them,  and  if  one  did  not  speak  of  them,  one  would 
insensibly  stop  trying  to  judge  them. 

6.  But  as  it  is  not  always  possible  to  avoid  judging,  it  be- 
comes necessary  to  employ  other  remedies  against  the  abuse 
of  rash  judgments. 

(a.)  " The  remedy  for  malignity  is  to  fill  one's  heart  with  charity  ; 
to  think  often  about  the  virtues  and  good  qualities  of  others. 

(b.)  " The  remedy  against  haste  is  to  accustom  one's  self  to  judge 
slowly  and  to  take  more  time  in  looking  at  things. 

(c.)  "The  remedy  against  the  too  strong  attachment  to  our  own  sen- 
timents is  to  continually  remember  the  weakness  of  our  minds  and  the 
frequent  mistakes  we,  as  well  as  others,  make. " 

Nicole  goes  so  far  in  proscribing  rash  judgments,  that  he 
even  forbids  them  regarding  the  dead  (xxxv.),  regarding  our- 
selves (xxxvi.),  even  when  they  have  good  rather  than  evil 
for  their  object  (xxxvii.),  even  regarding  abstract  maxims  of 
morality  (xli.) ;  and  he  concludes  by  saying  that  the  only 
reasonable  method  is  silence  !     We  recognize  here  the    rig- 


^  d 


104  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

orism  of  the  Jansenists;*  It  suffices  to  say  that,  as  a  general 
principle,  one  should  neither  judge  nor  pronounce  Avithout  in- 
vestigation ;  hut  one  must  allow  a  little  more  latitude  and 
liberty  than  does  Xicole ;  for  if  all  men  agreed  to  keep  silent, 
human  society  would  he  nothing  hut  a  semblance,  a  word  void 
of  sense.  How  could  men  get  to  love  each  other  if  they  did 
not  know  each  other  ?  And  how  could  they  know  each  other 
if  they  did  not  talk  to  each  other  1  ^\e  must,  therefore,  ad- 
here to  certain  general  principles  without  pretending  to  brmg 
all  words  and  thoughts  under  regulations. 

58.  Of  envy  and  delation. — Among  the  vices  which  may 
lead  to  the  greatest  injustices,  and  which  already  in  them- 
selves are  odious  as  sentiuients,  the  most  blameworthy  and 
the  vilest  is  the  passion  of  envy.  We  call  envious  him  who 
suffers  from  the  happiness  of  others,  him  -who  hates  others 
because  of  the  advantages  they  possess  and  the  superiority 
they  enjoy.  In  the  first  place,  this  sentiment  is  an  injustice  ; 
for  the  happiness  of  one  is  not  the  cause  of  another's  misfor- 
tune ;  the  health  of  one  does  not  make  the  other  sick  jQSsl- 
taire-'s  wit  is  not  the  cause  of  the  mediocrity  of  our  own 
talents ;  ^beautiful  women  are  not  answerable  for  the  ugliness 
of  other  women.  Let  the  ill-favored  one  accuse  nature  or 
Providence,  and  there  will  be  some  reason  in  it,  though  it  is 
a  bad  feeling ;  for  it  is  a  want  of  resignation  to  a  wisdom  the 
motives  of  which  we  caimot  always  divine ;  but  to  accuse 
the  favored  of  fortune,  is  a  shocking  baseness  of  the  heart, 
t  is  the  hateful  feature  of  a  celebrated  sect  of  these  present 
days ;  they  desire  not  the  happiness  of  all,  but  the  misfortune 
of  all.  Unable  to  procure  the  same  advantages  to  all  men, 
their  ideal  is  general  destruction.  Their  utopia  is  just  the 
reverse  of  all  other  Utopias.  These  believed  they  could  se- 
cure to  aU  the  advantages  reserved  to  a  few.  This  new  utopia, 
persuaded  of  the  impossibility  of  the  thing,  have  overthrown 
the  problem  and  propose  to  reduce  the  more  fortunate  to  the 

*  Nicole  belonged  to  the  sect  of  tlie  Jansenists,  celebrated  for  the  harshness  and 
rigidity  of  their  morality. 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   THE    LIBERTY    OF   OTHERS.        105 

wretcLedness  of  the  less  happy ;  and  as  among  the  number  of 
heads  they  hit  there  are  still  some  which  retain  a  few  advan- 
tages over  the  others,  the  work  of  destruction  will  go  on  till 
they  shall  have  reached  the  level  of  universal  degradation. 

But,  without  speaking  of  the  social  envy,  which  has  had  so 
large  a  share  in  the  revolutions  of  our  time,  what  we  ought 
above  all  to  tight  against  is  the  individual  envy  which  each 
of  us  has  so  much  trouble  in  defending  himself  against  in 
presence  of  the  success  of  his  neighbor,  fit  is  above  all  dan- 
gerous when  disputed  goods  are  in  question — things  all  can- 
not have  at  the  same  time — and  which  he  who  is  in  the  en- 
jojTuent  of  them  seems  thereby  to  rob  the  others  of :  as,  for 
instance,  a  situation  one  obtains  at  the  expense  of  another,  be 
it  that  he  is  more  deserving  of  it,  or  more  favored  by  fortune. 
In  the  first  case,  one  shoidd  be  just  enough  to  recognize  the 
rights  of  others  to  these  things,  and  in  the  second,  generous 
enough  to  forgive  them  the  favors  of  chance.  It  is  wanting 
in  personal  dignity  to  begrudge  men  their  chances  and  good 
fortune ;  and  even  were  these  chances  undeserved,  it  is  still 
lowering  one's  self  to  do  them  the  honor  of  envying  them. 

Envy  comes  close  to  another  sentiment,  less  odious  perhaps, 
and  less  unjust,  but  Avhich  is,  nevertheless,  unworthy  of  a 
right-feeling  man  ;  this  is  resentjnent,  irmcor,  a  vindidive  spirit. 
If  we  are  commanded  to  return  good  for  good,  we  are,  on  the 
other  hand,  forbidden  to  return  evil  for  evil.  For  centuries 
it  has  been  said :  Eye  for  eye  and  tooth  for  tooth.  This 
is  called  retaliation  (Zex  talionis).  Cliristian  morality  has 
reformed  this  law  of  barbarous  times.  "  It  is  written :  eye 
for  eye,  tooth  for  tooth ;  but  I  say  unto  you  :  Love  those  who 
hate  you  ;  pray  for  those  who  persecute  you  and  speak  evil  of 
you."  "Without  insisting  here  on  the  love  for  enemies  (which 
is  a  duty  of  charity  and  not  of  justice),  we  wiU  simply  say 
that  the  spirit  of  vengeance  is  even  contrary  to  justice.  Nature, 
when  we  have  been  offended,  calls  forth  in  our  hearts  a  spon- 
taneous emotion,  which  inspires  in  us  an  aversion  for  tlie 
caixse  of  the  offense.     This  is  a  mere  revolt  of  nature,  inno- 


106  ELEMENTS    OF   MOKALS. 

cent  in  itself,  since  it  is  tlie  })rinci{)le  of  tlie  right  of  self- 
defense.  But  M'e  should  not  yield  to  this  thoughtless  impulse  ; 
we  should  combat  the  desire  to  return  evil  for  evil ;  for  other- 
wise we  place  ourselves  on  a  level  with  him  whom  wejhate, 
And  here  again  we  should  distinguish  between  anger'-§m: 
rancor.  Anger  is  the  immediate  impression  we  receive  from 
the  MTong  committed,  and  which  may  induce  us  to  return  evil 
for  evil  on  the  spot ;  but  rancor  is  hatred  coldly  kept  up ;  it 
is  the  slow  and  calculated  preparation  for  a  revenge ;  it  is  the 
remembrance  of  wrong  carefully  nursed :  and  it  is  this  ■\^'hicli 
is  contrary  to  human  dignity.  Man  should  remember  good, 
not  evil :  he  who  is  capable  of  hatred  is  worthy  of  hatred,  and 
would  seem  to  have  beforehand  deserved  the  ^vrong  he  has 
been  made  to  suffer.  We  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  say  that 
wrong  must  be  pardoned  as  wrong,  for  that  would  be  siding 
with  injustice ;  but  it  should  be  pardoned  to  human  nature, 
because  it  is  weak,  and  we  are  no  less  Kable  to  sin  than 
others. 

From  these  feelings  of  hatred,  envy,  rancor,  coveteousness, 
springs  sometimes  a  vice  which  lowers  the  soul  and  corrupts 
it :  this  is  delation.  To  report  to  one  the  wrong  done  by 
another ;  to  superiors  the  wrongs  done  by  our  colleagues ;  to 
friends  the  evil  said  of  them  in  their  absence ;  to  inform  the 
authorities  of  the  presence  and  lodgings  of  an  outlaw,  such 
are  the  faults  designated  by  the  term  delation,  and  the  essen- 
tial characteristics  of  which  are,  that  they  are  committed  with- 
out the  knowledge  of  the  interested  parties.  It  is  evident, 
besides,  that  this  term  can  nowise  be  applied  to  functionaries 
commissioned  to  watch  and  discover  faults,  or  to  those 
Avho  complain  of  injustice  done  them,  and  finally  where 
great  crimes  committed  against  society  are  in  question,  to 
those  who,  knowing  the  criminals,  report  them  to  the  author- 
ities. 

59.  Distributive  and  remunerating  justice— Equity. — 
All  tlie  acts  we  have  thus  far  enumerated,  and  which  consist 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   THE    LIBERTY   OF   OTHERS.        107 

ill  doing  no  Avrong  to  otliers,  relate  to  wliat  may  be  called 
negative  justice.* 

There  is  another  kind  of  justice,  more  positive,  which  con- 
sists, like  charity,  in  doing  good  to  others,  not  in  the  sense  of 
liberality  and  a  gift,  but  as  a  debt ;  only  the  question  then  is 
not  a  material  debt,  which  obliges  to  return  a  thing  loaned,  or 
intrusted,  or  the  venal  value  of  that  thing ;  but  it  is  a  moral 
debt  in  proportion  to  the  merit  and  services  it  relates  to. 
This  kind  of  justice,  which  distributes  goods,  advantages, 
praises  in  proportion  to  certain  efforts,  capacities,  virtues,  is 
what  is  called  distributive  justice,  and,  inasmuch  as  it  rewards 
services,  remunerating. 

Distributive  justice  goes  into  effect  every  time  when 
there  is  occasion  to  classify  men,  to  distribute  among  them 
offices,  ranks,  honors,  degrees,  etc.  It  is  that  which  especially 
administrators  who  distribute  places,  have  to  exercise ;  also, 
examiners  who  give  diplomas,  learned  societies  who  grant 
prizes,  or  take  in  new  members ;  finally,  critical  judges  who 
appreciate  the  merit  of  books,  works  of  art,  dramatic  pro- 
ductions. 

The  administrators  who  have  to  fill  posts,  must  above  all 
consider  the  interests  of  the  situation  which  is  to  be  filled. 
Favoritism  should  be  strictly  excluded :  the  misuse  of  testi- 
monials has  been  often  pointed  out ;  it  is  the  plague  of  our 
administrations.  They  have  not  always  all  the  influence 
attributed  to  them  ;  but  it  is  enough  that  it  is  thought  they 
have  any,  to  give  rise  to  bad  habits  and  a  very  serious  laxity 
of  morals.  They  make  you  believe  that  success  does  not 
wholly  depend  on  conscientious  work,  and  that  it  requires, 
above  all,  the  favor  of  the  great  (protections).     It  is,  there- 


*  It  is  also  called  commutative  justice,  somewhat  improperly,  in  taking  for  its 
tj'pe  the  act  of  exchange,  where  one  gives  the  equivalent  of  what  he  receives  ;  but 
this  expression  is  only  truly  correct  when  it  touches  upon  property,  and  particularly 
upon  sale,  trust,  loan.  But  the  term  commutative  has  no  longer  much  meaning 
when  applied  to  the  respect  due  to  the  life,  the  liberty,  or  the  honor  of  others. 
Nevertheless,  it  is  necessary  to  be  familiar  witli  the  expression,  as  it  is  usually 
opposed  to  distriftwJii'c  justice. 


108  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

fore,  the  duty  of  administrators  to  consider  the  merit  of  func- 
tionaries only,  and  not  their  patrons. 

But  even  tliis  rule  is  far  from  being  sufficient :  for  personal 
merit  is  not  everything ;  is  not  the  only  element  to  be  con- 
sidered ;  age,  length  of  service,  have  also  their  value ;  for,  in 
order  that  the  State  be  well  served,  it  is  necessary  that  those 
who  work  for  it,  should  have  faith  in  the  future ;  should 
know  that  their  past  services  will  be  taken  account  of,  that  as 
they  grow  older  and  their  burdens  heavier,  the  iState  will 
come  to  their  assistance  in  raising  their  functions.  Thus  must 
length  of  service  be  combined  with  merit  and  be  itself  a  part 
of  the  merit.  In  many  administrations,  the  division  between 
these  two  elements  is  made  by  granting  vacant  posts  half  to 
length  of  service,  half  to  choice.  But  the  choice  itself  depends 
on  various  elements ;  for  personal  merit  is  itself  composed  of 
many  elements  :  for  example,  which  should  be  considered  the 
higher,  talent  or  work  1  A  lively  mind  Avill  accomplish  more 
work  in  less  time ;  but  it  may  be  negligent,  forgetful,  disor- 
derly :  a  substantial  mind,  always  ready,  industrious,  consci- 
entious, offers  better  guarantees  and  more  security ;  yet  in 
difficult  transactions,  talent  offers  more  resources.  This  shows 
how  many  practical  difficulties  have  to  be  met  in  the  choice  of 
men.  It  is  for  experience  and  conscience  to  decide  in  each 
particular  case.  Morality  can  give  no  general  rules,  except 
negative  rules  :  to  avoid  7ie]wt?sm,  mmony*  guard  against  the 
arl:)itrary,  against  favor,  testimonials,  etc. 

In  examinations  there  are  the  same  dangers  to  avoid  : 
for  here,  also,  it  is  unfortunately  too  much  a  general  belief 
that  favoritism  is  the  rule,  and  that  testimonials  go  for 
everything.  The  first  duty  is  to  set  aside  aU  personal  interest, 
worldly  influence,  pressure  from  without.     But  all  does  not 

*  Nepotism  is  the  custom  of  advancing  to  desirable  posts  the  members  of  one's 
family  ;  simony  (which  has  especially  to  do  with  the  Church)  consisted  in  the  pur- 
chase of  the  ecclesiastical  functions  :  the  term  may  also,  by  extension,  be  applied 
tu  lay  functions. 


DUTIES   TOWARDS   THE    LIBERTY    OF   OTHERS.         109 

end  here ;  for  there  remains  to  be  seen  what  rule  is  to  be 
followed  in  the  choice  of  candidates. 

If  the  number  of  those  who  are  to  be  elected  is  fixed  before- 
hand, as  in  contests,  there  is  then  already  a  great  difficulty  ob- 
viated :  for  there  is  but  to  be  determined  the  order  of  merit  of 
the  candidates.  But  in  many  examinations  the  number  is 
not  fixed.  It  becomes  then  necessary  to  find  a  just  medium 
between  excess  of  severity  and  excess  of  indulgence.  This 
medium  is  generally  determined  through  the  co-operation  of 
different  minds,  of  which  some  are  inclined  to  severity  and 
others  to  indulgence.  But  one  must  not  trust  to  this  co- 
operation of  others  to  arrive  at  a  strict  justice.  It  is  clear 
that  each,  for  his  own  part,  must  fix  upon  a  mean,  and 
endeavor  to  adliere  to  it  as  strictly  as  possible.  In  cases 
where  there  is  occasion  for  classification,  one  must,  above  aU, 
consider  the  more  substantial  qualities,  and  not  alloAV  one's  self 
to  be  too  easily  led  away  by  mere  .appearances  and  surface- 
talent. 

Thus,  facility  of  speech,  which  in  itself  is  a  merit,  should 
not  have  any  advantage  over  somid  learning,  especially  in 
regard  to  functions  where  speech-making  plays  no  part. 
Presence  of  mind,  ready  wit,  are  also  brilliant  and  precious 
qualities,  but  the  absence  of  which  does  not  always  denote 
ignorance  and  incapacity. 

In  learned  or  political  societies,  which  are  recruited  among 
themselves,  the  same  principles  of  independence  and  impar- 
tiality should  always  predominate,  except  in  cases  of  difference 
in  circumstances.  Talent  is  here  the  principal  thing  to  go  by, 
and  which  should  prevail ;  length  of  service  counts  for  notliing 
except  where  the  merit  is  equal.  The  interest  of  science  in 
learned  societies,  the  interest  of  the  State  in  political  societies, 
should  be  the  prime  considerations. 

Literary  or  artistic  criticism  comes  under  the  same  rules, 
only  it  has  not  for  its  object  persons,  but  works.  Here  the 
danger  to  be  feared  is  not  exactly  favor,  but  good  feUowshii^: 
one  upholds  the  other,  the  praise  is  mutual,  and  all  severity 


110  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

is  reserved  for  those  who  do  not  belong  to  the  society.  But, 
whether  good  fellowship  or  favor,  all  privilege-preference 
substituted  for  the  esteem,  the  thing  should  be  held  in  for  its 
own  sake,  is  contrary  to  justice.  Criticism  may,  of  course,  be 
more  or  less  severe — more  or  less  laudatory  ;  there  is  as  much 
impropriety  in  constant  blame  as  in  constant  praise ;  one 
must  strike  as  near  as  possible  a  just  mean  between  the  two, 
and  this  mean  may  not  be  the  same  with  the  different  critics ; 
here  comes  in  the  part  which  individual  temperament  plays  in 
the  matter.  But  whatever  rule  each  may  adopt  for  himself, 
they  must  all  apply  it  to  the  same  end  :  there  must  be  no 
undue  respect  for  the  person,  and  the  interest  of  art  must 
be  alone  considered. 


CHAPTER   YI. 

DtTTIES    OF   CHARITY    AXD   SELF-SACRIFICE. 


SUMMARY. 

A  retrospect  of  what  distinguishes  justice  and  charit}'. 

Duties  of  kindness.— The  lowest  degree  of  charity  is  koidness:  to 
wish  others  well  leads  to  doing  them  good. 

Civility. — Personal  civility  ;  civility  of  the  mind  ;  civility  of  the  heart. 

iVlodesty. — Modesty  is  as  much  a  duty  to  others  as  to  ourselves. 

Peace  among  men.  —  Analysis  of  Nicole's  dissertation  on  the  means  0/ 
'preserving  peace  anion;/  inen. — Citations  from  Kant  on  society  virtues. 

Duties  of  friendship. — Citations  from  Aristotle  and  Kant. 

Duties  of  benevolence. — Duties  minima  :  services  which  cost  noth- 
ing. — Hospitality  with  the  ancients. 

Good  deeds. — Analysis  of  Seneca. 

Duties  of  benefactors. — 1,  The  benefaction  consists  rather  in  the 
sentiment  than  in  tlie  thing  given  ;  2,  one  should  not  trouble  one's  self 
if  the  benefaction  results  in  ingratitude  ;  3,  degrees  in  benefactions  : 
the  necessary,  the  useful,  the  agreeable  ;  4,  the  manner  of  giving  is 
often  better  than  the  gift  itself ;  5,  one  should  not  reproach  bene- 
factions ;  6,  benefaction  consists  sometimes  in  refusing  ;  7,  benefac- 
tion should  l)e  disinterested. 

Duties  of  the  person  under  obligation  :— 1,  Not  to  be  too  greedy  ; 
2,  a  kindness  should  be  accepted  cheerfully  ;  3,  one  should  remember 
a  kindness. 

Kant's  rules  regarding  benevolence  and  gratitude. 

Precautions  required  by  benevolence :  Cicero's  rules. 

Self-sacrifice. — Different  forms  uf  sidf-sacritice  :  The  life,  the  prop- 
erty, the  morality  of  others,  etc.  ;  clemency  ;  forgiveness  of  injuries  ; 
love  of  enemies. 

"We  have  said  that  charity  consi-sts,  above  all,  in  doing  good 
to  men,  wliilst  justice  consists  in  doing  them  no  wrong.      It  is 


112  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

true,  there  is  a  j)OSitive  justice,  as  there  is  a  negative  justice; 
and  this  positive  justice  coBsists  also  in  doing  good  to  men, 
but  it  is  a  good  wliich  is  dice  them,  which  belongs  to  tlieni  by 
right,  and  "which  is  itself  an  acknowledgment  of  that  due  and 
that  right. 

The  good  done  to  others  in  the  exercise  of  the  duties  of 
charity  is,  on  the  contrary,  something  we  take  from  our  own  ; 
it  is  a  gift;  whilst  the  good  done  in  the  name  of  justice,  is 
always  a  debt. 

The  lowest  degTee  of  the  duty  of  charity  consists  in  what 
are  calli'd  duties  of  kindliness. 

60.  Duties  of  kindliness. — The  first  step  to  arrive  at 
doing  good  to  men,  is  to  loish  them  well.  Kindliness  is  the 
road  to  benevolence. 

Kindliness  is  that  disposition  which  induces  us  to  give 
others  pleasure  ;  to  rejoice  over  their  good  fortune,  to  make 
them  happy  themselves,  if  not  by  our  own  kindnesses,  if  that 
is  not  in  our  power,  at  least  by  outward  demonstrations  of 
SAnnpathy  and  affection. 

61.  Civility. — The  lowest  degree  of  this  virtue,  consists  in 
using  gentle  and  amiable  manners  in  our  intercourse  with 
others,  in  not  repelling  them  by  a  gruff  and  unsociable  disposi- 
tion ;  in.  Avounding  no  one's  feelings  by  the  affectation  of  con- 
tempt and  raillery,  etc.  This  kind  of  surface-virtue,  which  is 
confined  to  the  outward,  is  what  is  called  cicility. 

Civility  is  the  ensemble  of  the  forms  usage  has  established 
to  regulate  the  habitual  and  daily  relations  of  men  with  each 
other.  It  corresponds  in  society  to  the  ceremonial  of  diplo- 
matic life.  To  avoid  the  clashes  which  the  rivalries  of  courts 
and  powers  would  necessarily  carry  with  them,  a  code  of  agree- 
ments was  established  which  fix  with  precision  the  relations 
of  the  diplomatic  agents.  The  same  in  social  life.  Civility 
is  composed  not  of  absolute  and  wholly  material  rules,  but 
of  forms  fixed  in  a  general  way,  yet  more  or  less  free  in 
their  application,  and  all  the  more  pleasing  as  they  are  the 
more  free.     These   forms,  often  laughed    at    when   regarded 


DUTIES    OF   CHARITY    AND  SELF-SACRIFICE.         113 

superficially,  have  a  serious  value  when  we  cousider  that  they 
express  the  general  duty  whereby  peace  is  established  and 
maintained  among  men.  (See  Nicole,  Essais  de  morale,'^ 
1671.) 

There  is,  then,  in  civility  a  principle  which  is  essential  and 
a  form  wMch  is  arbitrary.  Usage  has  everywhere  established 
the  form  of  bowing,  for  instance  ;  everywhere  there  are  con- 
ventional expressions  wherewith  to  greet  people  according  to 
their  age,  their  sex  ;  but  these  outward  manifestations  vary 
according  to  times  and  countries. 

A  distinction  has  been  made  between  personal  civility  and 
the  civility  of  the  mind  and  heart.  Civility  properly  so 
called  is  that  of  the  outward  manners ;  but  it  is  worth  very 
little  if  it  is  not  sustained  by  the  delicacy  which  says  nothing 
wounding  and  the  true  kindliness  which  seeks  to  give  pleasure  : 
this  is  what  is  called  civility  of  the  mind  and  heart. 

"  The  most  amiable  natural  gifts,  and  the  talents  made  most  supple 
by  education,  change  into  defects  and  vices  if  they  are  not  inspired  by 
a  feeling  of  kindness.  Suppleness,  then,  is  nothing  else  than  perfidy  ; 
delicacy  nothing  else  but  cunning  ;  this  civility  lavished  upon  every- 
body is  nothing  else  than  duplicity  ...  It  is  not  enough  to  be  a  man 
of  the  world  ;  one  must  also  be  a  man  of  heart .  .  .  True  civility  is  that 
which  has  its  source  in  justice,  in  the  respect  for  humanity  ;  it  is  a 
form  of  charity  ;  it  is  the  luxury  of  virtue,  "t 

62.  Modesty. — One  of  the  most  essential  parts  of  kindness 
is  modedy.  Modesty  is  certainly  a  duty  Ave  owe  to  ourselves  ; 
but  it  is  also  a  duty  we  owe  to  others.  Nothing  more  fatigu- 
ing than  people  who  bring  everything  back  to  themselves, 
and  can  speak  of  nothing  but  themselves.  It  is  not  by  ap- 
pearing satisfied  with  your  own  accomplishments,  but  in 
having  others  satisfied  with  them,  that  you  will  please ;  and 
they  will  never  find  you  more  charming  than  when,  completely 
forgetting  yourself,  you  will  be  only  occupied  with  them.     To 

*  We  give  on  the  next  page  an  aiialj'sis  of  this  Essay. 

t  Jouffret,  De  la  pulitcsse  {A  Lecture  at  the  distribution  of  prizes  at  the  Tournon 
Lyceum,  Toui-noii.     IS80). 


114  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

succeed  in  making  them  satisfied  with  themselves,  is  the  true 
means  of  having  them  satisfied  with  you. 

Among  remarkable  instances  of  modesty  often  cited,  are 
those  of  Turenne  and  Catinat.  The  latter  having  sent  in  a 
report  of  the  battle  of  Marsaglia,  had  so  totally  forgotten  to 
mention  himself  that  some  one  ingenuously  asked  :  "  Was  the 
marshal  present  ?  " 

62  (Ms).  Peace  among  men. — "  You  have  but  a  day  to 
spend  on  earth,"  says  Lamennais ;  "  try  to  spend  it  in  peace."* 

Nicole  has  written  an  excellent  treatise  on  the  means  of 
preserving  peace  aniorig  men  [Essais  de  morale,  1671).  Let 
us  give  a  resume  of  it. 

Two  causes,  according  to  Nicole,  produce  disunion  among 
men :  either  in  wounding  their  feelings  we  cause  them  to 
withdraw  from  us,  or,  in  being  wounded  ourselves,  we  with- 
draw from  them." 

Consequently,  "  the  only  means  of  avoiding  such  divisions 
is  not  to  wound  the  feelings  of  others,  and  not  to  feel  one's  self 
wounded  by  them." 

1.  If  we  look  into  the  causes  which  generally  give  ofi"ense, 
we  shall  see  that  they  may  be  reduced  to  two,  which  are  :  "  to 
contradict  people  in  their  opinions,  and  to  oppose  their  pas- 
sions. " 

"1.  Opinions. — Men  are  naturally  attached  to  their  opinions,  be- 
cause they  desire  to  rule  over  others  :  now  we  rule  through  the  trust 
that  is  placed  in  us  ;  it  is  a  sort  of  empire  to  have  one's  opinions  received 
by  others. 

"For  this  reason,  when  one  seeks  to  combat  the  opinions  of  a  man, 
one  does  him  in  some  sort  injury.  It  cannot  be  done  without  giving 
him  to  understand  that  he  is  mistaken  ;  and  he  does  not  take  pleasure 
in  being  mistaken.  He  who  contradicts  another  on  some  point,  pretends 
to  more  knowledge  than  has  he  whom  he  wishes  to  persuade  ;  he  thus 
presents  to  him  two  disagreeable  ideas  at  the  same  time  :  one,  that  he 
is  deficient  in  knowledge,  and  the  other  that  he  who  corrects  him  sur- 
passes him  in  intelligence. " 

One  should,  therefore,  spare  people  in  their  opinions  ;  but 

*  Lamennais,  Paroles  d'un  Croyant,  xv. 


DUTIES   OF   CHARITY    AND   SELF-SACRIFICE.  115 

among  these  opinions  there  are  some  which  ninst  be  treated 
with  more  regard  than  others  : 

"  They  are  those  advanced  by  no  one  particular  person  of  the  place 
■where  one  may  live,  but  which  are  established  by  universal  approbation : 
in  running  against  such  opuiions,  one  appears  wishing  to  rise  above  all 
the  rest." 

Not  that  one  should  always  scruple  in  conversation  to  show 
that  one  does  not  approve  some  opinions :  that  would  be 
•lestroying  society,  instead  of  preserving  it.   .   .   . 

"  But  it  is  a  thing  worth  pointing  out  how  one  may  express  his  sen- 
timents so  gently  and  agi-eeably  that  they  give  no  offense.  .  .  .  For 
very  often  it  is  not  so  much  our  sentiments  that  shock  others,  as  the 
proud,  presumptuous,  pa-ssionate,  disdainful,  insulting  manner  in  which 
we  express  them." 

There  are,  then,  several  mistakes  to  be  avoided : 

{a)  The  first  is  msumed  siiperiority,  that  is  to  say  an  imperious  man- 
ner in  the  expression  of  one's  sentiments,  and  which  most  persons  resent, 
as  much  because  it  shows  a  proud  and  haughty  soul,  as  because  it  indi- 
cates a  domineering  spirit  tyrannizing  over  minds. 

{b)  The  second  is  the  decided  and  dogmatic  manner  in  which  an 
opinion  is  given  ;  as  if  it  could  not  be  reasonably  contradicted. 

('•)  Vehemence  does  not  belong  to  the  mistakes  we  have  just  spoken 
of.  It  consists  in  conveying  the  impression  that  one  is  not  only 
attached  to  one's  sentiments  from  conviction,  but  also  passionately, 
which  furnishes  many  people  a  reason  for  suspecting  the  truth  of  those 
sentiments,  thus  inspiring  in  them  a  wholly  contrary  feeling. 

{d)  The  contempt  and  insults  which  enter  into  disputes,  are  so  obvi- 
ously shocking,  that  it  is  not  necessary  to  warn  against  them  ;  but  it 
may  be  well  to  remark  that  there  are  certain  rudenesses  and  incivilities 
nearly  akin  to  contempt,  although  they  .spring  from  another  source. 
Change  of  opinion  is  in  itself  such  a  hard  thing,  and  so  contrary  to 
nature,  that  we  must  not  add  to  it  other  difficulties. 

(«)  Finally,  hardness,  which  does  not  so  much  consist  in  the  hardness 
o*"  the  terms  employed  as  in  the  absence  of  certain  softening  words-,  also 
often  shocks  those  thus  addressed,  because  it  implies  a  sort  of  indiffer- 
ence and  contempt. 

2.  Passions.— It  is  not  enough  to  avoid  contradicting  peo- 
ple's  opinions,  or  to  do  so   cautiously  only  ;  one   must  also 


116  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

spare  their  inclinations  and  their  passions,  because  otlierwise, 
it  is  impossible  to  avoid  complaints,  murmurs,  and  quarrels. 

These  inclinations  are  of  three  kinds :  which  may  be  called 
jiist,  indifferent,  and  unjust. 

{a)  One  should  never  really  satisfy  the  unjust  ones  ;  but  it  is  not 
always  necessary  to  oppose  them  ;  for  it  is  wounding  others  to  make 
one's  self  conspicuous  without  particular  reason.  .  .  .  One  must  alwaj^s 
make  amends  for  good  and  evil.  .  .  .  especially  when  there  are  others 
who  could  do  it  with  better  results  than  we. 

Besides,  ' '  this  same  rule  obliges  us  to  choose  the  least  offensive,  the 
gentlest,  the  least  irritating  means." 

{b)  I  call  indifferent  passions  those  the  objects  of  which  are  not  bad 
in  themselves,  although  they  may  be  sought  after  with  a  vicious  adhe- 
sion. Now,  in  tliis  sort  of  things  we  are  at  greater  liberty  to  yield 
to  the  inclinations  of  others  :  1,  because  we  are  not  their  judges  ;  2, 
because  we  do  not  know  whether  these  affections  are  not  necessary  to 
them  (leading  them  away  from  still  more  dangerous  objects) ;  3,  because 
these  sorts  of  affections  must  be  destroyed  with  prudence  and  circum- 
spection ;  4,  because  there  is  reason  to  fear  we  might  do  them  more 
harm  in  indirectly  opposing  their  innocent  passions,  than  we  should  do 
them  good  in  warning  them  against  them. 

(c)  I  call  just  passions,  those  in  which  we  are  obliged  to  follow  others 
by  reason  of  some  duty,  although  they  might  perhaps  not  be  justified 
in  requiring  of  us  such  deference. 

The  peace  of  society  resting  thus  on  reciprocal  esteem  and 
love,  it  is  just  that  men  should  wish  to  be  esteemed  and  loved, 
and  should  demand  outward  signs  of  esteem  and  love.  Upon 
this  rest  the  rules  of  civility  established  among  men,  and  of 
which  we  have  spoken  above. 

II.  It  is  not  enough  to  avoid  wounding  men's  feelings,  one 
should,  moreover,  not  allow  one's  self  to  feel  wounded  by  tliem, 
when  they  themselves  fail  to  treat  us  as  we  ought  to  treat 
them. 

For  it  is  impossible  to  ])ractire  inward  peace,  if  we  ai'e  so  sensitive  to 
all  that  may  be  done  and  said  contrary  to  our  inclinations  and  senti- 
ments ;  and  it  is  even  difficult  to  prevent  the  inner  dissatisfaction  from 
showing  itself  outwardly,  and  inducing  us  to  treat  those  who  have 
shocked  us  in  a  manner  calculated  to  shock  them  in  their  turn. 


DUTIES   OF   CHARITY   AND   SELF-SACRIFICE.  117 

It  is,  then,  necessary  to  avoid  complaining  of  others,  when 
one  has  been  offended  by  them.     In  fact : 

.  .  .  Let  us  complain  of  otliers  as  much  as  we  please,  vre  shall  gen- 
erally only  embitter  them  the  more,  without  correcting  them.  We  shall 
be  accounted  sensitive,  proud,  haughty  .  .  and  if  those  we  complain  of 
have  any  sort  ot  skill,  they  will  give  such  an  aspect  to  things  that  the 
blame  will  fall  back  upon  us. 

AVe  must  then  endeavor  to  establish  our  peace  and  quiet  on  our  own 
reformation  and  on  the  moderation  of  our  passions.  We  cannot  dispose 
of  the  minds  or  the  tongues  of  others.  .  .  .  we  are  enjoined  to  work  on 
ourselves  and  to  correct  our  own  faults. 

There  is  nothing  more  useful  than  to  suppress  one's  complaining  and 
resentment.  It  is  the  surest  way  to  appease  differences  at  their  birth 
and  prevent  their  increase  ;  it  is  a  charity  we  practice  towards  ourselves 
by  procuring  to  ourselves  the  good  of  patience  .  .  .  it  is  a  charity  we 
do  to  others  in  bearing  with  their  foibles,  in  sparing  them  the  little 
shame  they  have  deserved,  and  the  new  faults  they  might  commit  in 
justifying  themselves. 

But  it  is  not  possible  for  us  to  observe  outwardly  such  discretion,  if 
we  allow  our  resentment  to  work  inwardly  in  all  its  force  and  violence. 
The  outward  complaints  come  from  the  inward,  and  it  is  very  difficult 
to  hold  them  back,  if  one's  mind  is  full  of  them  ;  they  always  escape 
and  break  through  some  opening  or  other.  .  .  .  We  must,  therefore, 
also  quench  the  complaints  which  the  soul  engenders. 

Among  the  subjects  of  complaint  which  other  men  give  us, 
and  which  should  be  treated  with  contempt,  Nicole  points  out 
particularly : 

"False  judgments,  slander,  rudeness,  negligence,  reserve,  or  want 
of  confidence,  ingratitude,  disagreeable  tempers,  etc." 

Let  us  merely  repeat  what  he  says  of  the  unfavorable  judg- 
ments of  others  regarding  us  : 

"There  is  a  ridiculous  oddity  in  this  spite  which  we  feel  when  we 
hear  of  the  unfavorable  judgments  and  remarks  made  about  us  ;  for  one 
must  have  very  little  knowledge  of  the  world  to  suppose  it  generally 
possible  that  they  would  not  be  made.  Princes  are  talked  against  in  their 
ante-chambers  ;  their  servants  mimic  them.  There  is  nothing  so  com- 
mon as  to  speak  of  the  defects  of  one's  friends  and  imde  one's  self  in 
pointing  them  frankly  out  to  others.     There  are  even  occasions  when 


118  "CLEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

this  may  be  done  innocently.  ...  It  is,  therefore,  ridiculous  to  ex- 
pect being  spared.  ...  for  there  is  no  time  when  we  may  not 
be  generally  sure  either  that  people  talk  or  have  talked  about  us 
othermse  than  we  should  wish.  .  .  .  We  show  annpyance  at  these 
judgments  when  they  are  expressly  reported  to  us.  .  .  .  yet  the  re- 
port itself  adds  next  to  nothing  to  the  matter,  for  before  it  was  made 
we  ougiit  to  have  been  almost  sure  that  we  and  our  faults  were  unpleas- 
antly commented  on.  ...  If  this  resentment  were  just,  one  would 
then  have  to  be  always  angry,  or  never  so,  because  it  is  unjust.  But  to 
keep  very  quiet,  as  we  do,  though  we  should  know  that  there  are  .people 
laughing  at  us,  and  to  be  disturbed  and  upset  when  we  are  told  what 
we  already  knew,  is  a  ridiculous  foible." 

63.  Social  virtues  —  Kant's  advice. — Kant  has  also 
treated  the  duties  of  kindness  towards  men,  under. the  title  of 
Social  Virtues* 

"  It  is  a  duty  to  one's  self  as  well  as  to  others  to  carry  the  commerce 
of  life  to  the  highest  degree  of  moral  perfection  ;  not  to  isolate  one's 
self ;  not  only  to  have  the  happiness  of  the  world  in  view  ideally,  but 
to  cultivate  the  means  which  indirectly  lead  to  it  ;  urbanity  in  social 
relations,  gentleness,  reciprocal  love  and  respect,  affability  and  pro- 
priety, thus  adding  the  graces  to  virtue,  for  this  also  is  a  duty  of 
virtue. 

"  These,  it  is  true,  are  but  external  and  accessory  works,  presenting  a 
fine  appearance  of  virtue,  which,  however,  deceives  no  one,  because  every 
one  knows  how  much  to  think  of  it.  It  is  but  a  sort  of  small  coin  ;  but 
the  effort  we  are  obliged  to  make  to  bring  this  appearance  as  near  to  the 
truth  as  possible,  helps  the  sentiment  of  virtue  greatly  along.  An  easy 
access,  an  amiable  mode  of  speech,  politeness,  hospitalit}^  that  gentle- 
ne.ss  in  controversy  which  keeps  off  all  quarrel — all  these  forms  of  socia- 
bility are  external  obligations  which  put  also  the  others  under  obliga- 
tion, and  which  favor  the  sentiment  of  virtue  in  rendering  it  at  least 
amiable. 

"Here  arises  the  question  to  know  whether  one  can  keep  up  friendly 
relations  with  the  vicious,  t  One  cannot  avoid  meeting  them  ;  for  one 
would  have  to  quit  the  M'orld,  and  we  are  not  ourselves  competent  judges 
in  respect  to  them.  But  when  vice  becomes  a  scandal — that  is  to  say,  a 
public  example  of  contempt  of  the  .strict  laws  of  duty,  thus  carrying 
with  it  o[iprobrium — then  one  .should  stop  all  relations  one  may  have  had 

*  Kant,  Doctrine  de  la  vertu,  trad.  Barni,  p.  1(30. 

t  It  is  the  question  debated  between  Aleeste  and  Philiute  in  the  first  scene  of  th« 
Itti^.nlhro'pe. 


DUTIES   OF   CHARITY    AND    SELF-SACRIFICE.  119 

heretofore  with  the  guilt)'  person  ;  for  the  continuation  of  this  relation 
wouhl  deprive  virtue  of  honor,  and  make  of  it  a  merchandise  for  the  use 
of  whoever  were  rich  enough  to  corrupt  parasites  through  the  pleasures 
of  good  living." 

64.  Duties  of  friendship. — Besides  the  gi-neral  duties  of 
every  kind  which  link  us  with  all  men,  for  the  only  reason 
that  they  are  men,  there  are  particular  duties  imposed  on  us 
toward  those  of  our  fellow-beings,  tu  whom  we  are  united  by 
the  bonds  of  friendship. 

The  duties  of  friendship  have  been  admirably  known  and 
described  by  the  ancients.  We  could  not,  therefore,  treat 
this  subject  better  here  than  by  briefly  recalling  some  few 
passages  from  Aristotle  or  Cicero. 

According  to  Aristotle,  there  are  three  kinds  of  friendship  : 
the  friendship  of  pleasure,  the  friendship  of  interest,  and  the 
friendship  of  viHue.     The  latter  is  the  only  true  one. 

"There  are  three  kinds  of  friendship.  .  .  .  The  people  who  love 
each  other  from  interested  motives,  for  the  use  they  are  to  each  other, 
love  each  other,  not  for  their  own  sakes,  but  only  inasmuch  as  they 
get  any  good  or  profit  from  their  mutual  relations.  It  is  the  same  with 
those  who  only  love  each  other  for  pleasure's  sake.  A\Tien  one  loves 
from  motives  of  pleasure  only,  one  really  seeks  nothing  else  but  this 
same  pleasure.  Such  friendships  are  only  indirect  and  accidental. 
They  are  very  easily  broken,  because  these  pretended  friends  do  not 
long  remain  the  same. 

"  Utility,  interest,  have  nothing  fixed  ;  they  vary  from  one  moment  to 
another.  The  motive  which  originated  the  friendship  disappearing,  the 
friendship  disappears  as  rapidly  with  it. 

"The  perfect  friendship  is  that  of  virtuous  people,  and  who  resemble 
each  other  in  their  virtue  ;  for  these  wish  each  other  well,  inasmuch  as 
they  are  good  ;  and  I  add  that  they  are  good  in  themselves.  Those 
who  wish  their  fi-iends  well  from  such  a  noble  motive  are  the  friends 
par  excellence.  Hence  it  is  that  the  friendship  of  such  generous  hearts 
lasts  as  long  as  they  remain  good  and  virtuous  themselves  ;  now  virtue 
is  a  substantial  and  durable  thing.  Each  of  the  two  friends  is  in  the 
first  place  good  in  himself,  and  he  is,  moreover,  good  to  all  his  friends, 
for  good  people  arc  useful  to  each  other,  and  also  nmtually  agreeable  to 
each  other.  Such  a  friendship  unites,  then,  all  the  conditions.  Tliere 
is  nothing  more  lovely.     It  is  cpiite  natural,  however,  that  such  friend' 


12C  ELEilEXTS    OF   MOKALS. 

ships  are  very  rare,  because  there  are  very  few  people  of  such  a  rlispo- 
sition.  It  requires,  moreover,  time  and  habit.  The  proverb  is  true 
which  says  that  people  can  hardly  know  each  other  well,  '  before  having 
eateu  together  bushels  of  salt.'  In  the  same  way  persons  cannot  be 
friends  before  having  shown  themselves  wortliy  of  affection,  before  re- 
ciprocal conhdence  is  established."  (Nicoraachean  Ethics,  liv.  viii., 
3h.  vii. ) 

Friendship,  according  to  Aristotle,  consists  in  loving  rather 
than  in  being  loved. 

"Friendship,  besides,  consists  much  rather  in  loving  than  in  being 
loved.  The  proof  of  it  is  the  pleasure  mothers  experience  in  lavishing 
their  love  ...  To  love  is,  then,  the  great  virtue  of  friends  ;  it  is  thus 
that  the  most  unequal  of  people  may  be  friends  ;  their  mutual  esteem 
renders  them  equals."     (Ch.  viiL) 

Friendship  gives  rise  to  a  number  of  delicate  problems : 
they  may  be  found  discussed  in  great  detail  in  Cicero's 
Treatise  on  Friendsidp. 

65.  Kant's   precepts  touching  friendship.— Among  the 

moderns,  Kant  is  the  only  moral  philosopher  who  has  given 
friendship  a  place  in  practical  morahty.  He  has  found  new 
and  delicate  traits  to  add  to  the  rules  of  the  ancients.  He 
insists  above  all  on  what  he  calls  "  the  difficulties  of  friend- 
ship," and  above  all  on  the  difficulty  of  conciliating  "  love  and 
respect." 

"  To  look  at  the  moral  aspect  of  the  thing,"  he  says,  "it  is  certainly 
a  duty  to  call  a  friend's  attention  to  the  mistakes  he  may  commit ;  for 
it  is  done  for  his  good,  and  is  consequently  a  duty  of  love.  But  the 
friend,  thus  admonished,  sees  in  the  thing  but  a  lack  of  esteem  he  had 
not  expected,  and  thinks  he  has  lost  something  in  your  mind  ;  or,  see- 
ing himself  thus  observed  and  criticised,  may  at  least  be  in  constant 
ferr  of  losing  your  esteem.  Besides,  the  fact  alone  of  being  observed 
and  censured,  will  already  appear  to  him  an  offensive  thing  in  itself. 

"  How  much  in  adversity  do  we  not  wish  for  a  friend,  especially  an 
effective  friend,  one  finding  in  his  own  resources  abundant  means  for 
helping  us  ?  Yet  is  it  a  very  heavy  burden  to  feel  one's  self  responsible 
for  the  fortunes  of  another,  and  called  to  provide  for  his  necessities  .  .  . 
Then  if  the  one  receives  a  kindness  from  the  other,  perhaps  there  may 
be  yet  reason  to  hope  for  perfect  equality  in  love  ;  but  lie  could  no 


DUTIES    OF   CHAKITY    AND   SELF-SACEIFICE.  121 

longer  expect  perfect  equality  in  respect  ;  for  being  under  obligation  to 
one  he  cannot  oblige  in  his  turn,  he  feels  himself  manifestly  one  degree 
his  inferior.  .  .  .  Friendsliip  is  something  so  tender  that  if  one  does  not 
subject  this  reciprocal  abandonment  and  interchange  of  thoughts  to 
principles,  to  fixed  rules,  which  prevent  too  great  a  familiarity  and 
limit  reciprocal  love  by  the  requirements  of  respect,  it  w-ill  see  itself 
every  instant  threatened  by  some  interruption.  ...  In  any  case  affec- 
tion in  friendsliip  should  not  be  a  passion  ;  for  passion  is  blind  in  its 
choice,  and  evaporates  with  time.  * 

66.    Duties   of    benevolence.— Duties    minima.— From 

h'ndness  we  pass  to  benevolence.  The  one  resides  in  senti- 
ment, the  other  in  acts  :  the  first  consists  in  wishing  well,  the 
second  in  doing  good. 

The  least  degree  of  henevoJence  consists  in  rendering  to 
others  those  smaller  services  which  cost  us  nothing,  and  which 
are  helpful  to  them.  It  is  what  PufFendorf  calls  the  duties 
minima  of  benevolence. f 

Cicero,  in  his  Treatise  on  duties  (I.,  xvi.),  gives  several 
examples  of  this  kind  : 

"  To  show  the  way  to  him  who  asks  for  it  ;  to  forbid  no  one  the  u.se 
of  running  water  ;  to  give  fire  to  him  who  has  need  of  it ;  to  give  ad- 
vice in  good  faith  to  him  who  is  in  doubt. " 

Plutarch,  in  the  same  sense,  says  that  the  Romans  never 
extinguished  their  lamps  after  their  meals,  and  always  left 
something  on  the  table  to  accustom  tlie  servants  of  the  house 
to  the  duties  of  humanity.  By  the  law  of  Moses,  the  owner 
of  a  field  was  obliged  always  to  leave  some  corner  uncut  and 
not  glean  the  ears  that  had  escaped  the  reapers.  Finally, 
a  Greek  poet,  Phocylides,  expressed  in  the  following  lines  this 
minimum  of  benevolence  wliich  every  one  can  exercise : 

"  Give  shelter  to  those  who  have  none  ;  lead  the  blind  ;  be  merciful 
to  those  who  have  suffered  shipwreck  ;  extend  a  helping  hand  to  the 
fallen  ;  assist  those  that  have  no  one  to  help  them  out  of  danger." 

Among  these  primitive  duties,  which  cost  him  that  fultill.i 

*  Kant,  Doc.  de  la  vertu,  trad,  de  Bami,  p.  155. 

t  See  Puffendorf,  Droits  de  la  nature  et  des  gens,  III.,  rh.  iii. 

6 


122  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

them  but  little,  the  ancients  put  in  the  first  rank  hospitality. 
It  is  in  fact  a  virtue  of  primitive  times  which  exists  especially 
among  barbarous  and  savage  peoples.  In  the  poems  of  Homer 
"sve  see  to  what  degree  the  guest  was  held  sacred ;  it  is  still  so 
among  the  Arabs  and  the  Indians  of  America.  This  virtue, 
on  the  contrary,  seems  to  have  disappeared  with  civilization. 
The  reason  of  it  is  that  among  barbarous  populations,  where 
security  is  feeble,  it  was  the  pomt  of  honor  which  guaranteed 
the  security  of  strangers.  But  as  civilization  becomes  more 
complicated,  as  traveling  increases,  and  security  becomes 
greater,  mercenary  hospitality  takes  the  place  of  free  and 
private  hospitality.  Nevertheless,  there  can  always  reniain 
some  occasion  for  this  primitive  virtue  in  places  isolated  and 
separated  from  tlie  great  centres :  this,  for  example,  can  still 
be  seen  in  our  days  in  the  great  wastes  of  America  and  Aiis- 
tralia. 

67.  Benefactions  Duties  of  the  benefactor. —The  fore- 
going actions,  however  praiseworthy  they  may  be,  are  too 
simple  and  too  easy  to  be  presented  as  real  acts  of  benevolence. 
This  term  is  reserved  for  the  more  difficult  actions,  which  may 
cost  us  some  real  sacrifices  more  or  less  great,  and  which,  more- 
over, are  important  services.  These  are  what  are  called  bene- 
factions. 

Seneca,  in  his  Treatise  on  benefactions,  has  fixed  the  prin- 
ciples of  benevolence : 

1.  Benefaction  consists  especially  in  the  feeling  which 
accompanies  it,  rather  than  in  the  thing  given. 

"  "Wliat  is  a  benefaction?"  he  asks;  "it  is  an  act  of  benevolence 
which  procures  joy  to  him  who  is  the  object  of  it  and  to  him  who  exer- 
cises it :  it  is  a  voluntary  and  spontaneous  act.  It  is  then  not  at  the 
thing  done  and  given  that  we  must  look,  but  at  the  intention,  because 
the  Ijencfaction  does  not  consist  in  the  gift  or  in  the  action,  but  in  the 
disposition  of  him  who  gives.  The  proof  of  this  difference  is  that  the 
benefaction  is  always  a  good,  whilst  the  thing  done  or  given  is  neither 
a  good  nor  an  evil.  The  benefaction  is  then  not  the  money  that  is 
counted  out  to  you,  the  present  that  is  made  you  ;  no  more  than  the 


DUTIES    OF    CHARITY    AND  SELF-SACRIFICE.  123 

worship  of  the  gods  consists  iu  its  fattest  victims,  but  in  the  upright- 
ness and  piety  of  their  worshipers, 

"  One  prefers  a  hand  that  opens  easily  to  one  that  gives  hirgely.  He 
has  done  little  for  me,  but  he  could  not  do  any  more.  That  other  has 
given  much,  but  he  hesitated,  he  delayed,  he  groaned  in  gi\nng,  he 
gave  with  ostentation  ;  he  proclaimed  his  good  deed  ;  he  did  not  care 
to  please  him  whom  he  obliged  :  it  is  not  to  me  he  gave,  it  is  to  his 
vanity."    (I.,  vi.) 

2.  One  should  do  good  without  caring  about  ingrates. 

"  What  is  after  all  the  wrong  the  iugrate  does  you  ?  You  have  lost 
your  good  deed.  But  there  remains  to  you  the  most  precious  part  of 
it :  the  merit  of  having  done  it  There  are  services  one  should  learn 
how  to  render  without  hope  of  returns,  to  people  one  may  presume  vnU. 
be  ungrateful,  and  whom  one  even  knows  to  have  been  so.  If,  for 
example,  I  can  save  from  a  great  peril  the  children  of  one  who  has  been 
ungrateful  to  me,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  do  so."    (I,,  x. ) 

3.  There  must  be  degrees  in  benefactions,  and,  having  to 
choose,  one  must  first  give  the  iieoessary,  then  the  useful,  then 
tfie  agreeahle. 

"The  necessary,"  says  Seneca,  "is  divided  into  three  classes:  the 
first  comprises  the  things  without  which  one  cannot  live  (for  example, 
to  rescue  a  man  from  the  sword  of  the  enemy,  from  the  rage  of  tyrants, 
from  proscription,  etc ) ;  the  second,  those  without  which  one  should 
not  live  (such  as  liberty,  honor,  virtue) ;  finally  (3d  class),  our  children, 
our  wives,  our  household  gods  are  objects  dearer  to  us  than  life. — After 
the  necessary  comes  the  useful  ;  it  may  be  subdivided  into  a  great 
number  of  s[iecies  ;  it  comprises  money,  honors,  and  above  all  the  prog- 
ress in  the  science  of  virtue. — Finally  come  the  agreeable  things  which 
are  innumerabla  .  .  Let  us  seek  things  which  please  because  they  are 
to  the  purpose  ;  that  are  not  common  ;  that  recall  the  donor ;  let  us 
above  all  beware  of  useless  presents."    (I.,  xi. ) 

4.  The  manner  of  granting  a  benefit  is  more  important  than 
the  benefit  itself. 

"The  simplest  rule  to  follow  is  to  give  as  we  should  ourselves  wish 
to  be  given  to. 

"One  must  above  all  give  heartily,  without  hesitation  .  .  .  after  a  re- 
fusal nothing  so  hard  as  irresolution.  .  .  The  most  agreeable  kindnesses 
are  those  one  does  not  expect,  which  flow  naturally  ;  which  anticipate 


124  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

their  need.  It  is  better  to  anticipate  the  request.  To  forestall  this 
trouble  is  doubling  the  good  deed. 

"There  are  people  who  spoil  their  greatest  kindnesses  by  their  silence, 
their  slowness  to  speak  which  comes  from  constraint  and  moodiness  ; 
they  promise  with  the  same  air  with  which  they  would  refuse.  .  .  . 
Their  knit  brows,  their  harangues,  their  disdain  make  one  regret  having 
obtained  the  promised  thing. 

"Nothing  more  di-sagreeable  than  to  be  a  long  time  in  suspense.  Theie 
are  persons  who  prefer  giving  up  hope  to  languisliing  in  expectation.  .  .  . 
Promptness  then  enhances  the  good  deed,  and  tardiness  diminishes  it." 
(IL,  ii-vi.) 

5.  One  must  not  reproach  good  deeds. 

"  One  of  the  first  and  mo.st  indispensable  laws,  is  not  to  reproach  el- 
even recall  to  the  mind  of  recipients  one's  kindnesses.  The  tacit  agi-ee- 
ment  between  the  giver  and  the  receiver  is,  that  the  one  should  imme- 
diately forget  what  he  has  given,  and  that  the  other  should  never  forget 
what  he  has  received.  The  frequent  mention  of  kindnesses  is  a  crushing 
weight  to  the  soul." 

6.  Benevolence  consists  soraetimes  in  refusing. 

"  If  the  thing  asked  for  is  prejudicial  to  him  Avho  asks  for  it,  then 
benevolence  consists  no  longer  in  giving,  but  in  refusing.  We  should 
have  more  regard  to  the  interests  of  the  petitioner  than  to  his  wishes. 
As  we  refuse  patients  cold  water,  arms  to  angry  persons,  so  should  we 
also  refuse  a  kindness  to  the  most  pressing  requests,  if  that  kindness  is 
injurious  to  the  interested  person.  .  .  One  should  no  less  consider  the 
end  than  the  principle  of  kindnesses." 

7.  Benevolence  must  be  disinterested. 

"  It  is  shameful  to  do  good  for  any  other  motive  than  doing  good. 
If  one  gave  only  in  the  hope  of  restitution,  one  would  choose  the  richest 
in  preference  to  the  most  worthy.  .  .  The  least  benevolent  men  would 
be  those  who  had  the  best  means  for  being  benevolent :  the  rich,  the 
great,  the  king,  etc.  ...  As  an  insult  is  a  thing  one  should  for  itself 
avoid,  so  benevolence  is  desirable  for  its  own  sake  (xv. )  .  .  .  There  is  no 
benevolence  where  there  is  expectation  of  profit.  I  shall  give  so  much  ; 
I  shall  receive  so  much  :  this  is  called  a  bargain."   (xiv. ) 

We  will  put  aside  the  other  questions,  more  curious  thnn 
useful,  raised  by  Seneca  (as,  for  example,  whether  one  should 
give  to  the  wicked ;  whether  one  may  be  his  own  benefactor ; 


DUTIES   OF    CHARITY    AXD    SELF-SAUlilFlCE.  12b 

whether  one  may  allow  himself  to  be  outdone  by  good  deeds, 
etc.),  and  consider  now  the  duties  of  the  one  under  obligation. 

68.  Duties  of  the  person  under  obligation. — Gratitude. 
— After  having  expounded  the  duties  of  the  benefactor,  we 
have  to  ask  ourselves  Avhat  are  those  of  the  person  under  obli- 
gation. The  principle  of  all  is  gratitude;  that  only  comes 
after  the  kindness ;  but  there  are  duties  wliich  precede  the 
good  deed  or  accompany  it.  We  shall  again  cite  here  Seneca 
as  authority.  After  having  set  forth  the  principles  which 
should  actuate  the  giver,  he  also  sets  forth  those  the  receiver 
should  be  guided  by. 

1.  The  first  principle  is  that  we  should  not  be  too  greedy 
and  receive  from  any  one,  but  only  from  those  to  whom  we 
should  like  to  give  ourselves  : 

"  It  is  a  painful  thing  to  be  under  obligations  to  people  against  one's 
will.  Nothing  sweeter,  on  the  contrary,  than  to  receive  a  kindness  from 
a  person  one  loves.  .  .  I  must  then  choose  the  person  of  whom  I  con- 
sent to  receive  anything,  and  I  should  even  be  more  particular  in  regard 
to  kindness-creditors  than  to  money-creditors  ;  to  the  latter  one  need 
only  return  what  he  has  received  from  them  ;  this  reimbursement  done 
we  have  acquitted  ourselves  toward  them  ;  in  the  matter  of  kindnesses, 
on  the  contrary,  one  should  pay  more  than  what  he  has  received." 

2.  A  second  rule  is  that  from  the  moment  one  accepts  a 
kindness,  he  must  accept  it  cheerfully. 

"  When  we  have  concluded  to  accept  a  kindness,  let  us  do  it  cheer- 
fully. ...  To  accept  a  kindness  with  pleasure,  is  making  the  first  pay- 
ment of  the  interest  (II.,  xxiL). — There  are  people  who  onlj'  consent  to 
receiv'^e  in  secret  ;  they  wish  neither  witnesses  to,  nor  confidants  of,  the 
obligations  they  are  contracting.  If  the  benefactor  is  bound  to  proclaim 
liis  kindness  only  inasmuch  as  its  publicity  will  give  pleasure  to  the  per- 
son he  obliges,  the  one  receiving  should,  on  the  contrary,  call  together 
the  crowd.  One  is  at  liberty  not  to  accept  what  he  blushes  to  receive 
(xxxiii. ).  .  .  .  One  of  the  lesser  paradoxes  of  the  stoics  is,  that  in 
receiving  a  kindness  cheerfully,  one  has  already  acquitted  himself." 

3.  One  must  awaken  the  remembrance  of  a  good  deed  :  to 
remembej'  is  cdready  to  acquit  one's  self  (xxiv.). 


12G  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

"Which,  according  to  you,  is  the  most  culpable,  he  who  feels  no 
gratitude  for  a  kindness,  or  he  who  does  not  even  keep  it  in  mind  ?  .  .  . 
It  would  seem  that  one  thought  very  little  about  restitution  when  he 
has  got  so  far  as  to  forget  the  kindness.  ...  To  acquit  one's  self  of  a 
kindness,  one  needs  means,  some  fortune  ;  but  the  recollection  of  it  is 
a  gratitiide  which  costs  nothing.  To  mthhold  a  payment  which  requii'es 
neither  trouble  nor  riches,  is  inexcusable.  .  .  .  The  objects  memory 
is  busy  with  never  escape  it ;  it  only  loses  those  it  does  not  often 
revert  to." 

69.  Kant's  rules  touching  benevolence  and  gratitude. — 

To  the  inaxinis  of  the  ancients  ■wliicli  Ave  have  just  summed 
up,  let  us  add  a  iew  principles  borrowed  of  a  modem  moraKst, 
the  philosopher  Kant : 

Benevolence. — Benevolence,  when  one  is  rich,  and  finds  in  his  super- 
fluitj'  the  means  of  making  others  happy,  should  never  be  considered 
by  the  benefactor  even  a  meritorious  dut}'.  The  satisfaction  he  pro- 
cures to  himself  therebj-,  and  which  does  not  cost  him  any  sacrifice,  is 
a  means  of  filling  himself  with  moral  sentiments.  Therefore  must  he 
carefully  avoid  looking  as  if  he  thought  he  was  obliging  others  ;  for 
otherwise  his  kindness  would  no  longer  be  one  ;  since  he  would  seem 
wishing  to  put  under  obligation  the  person  to  whom  he  grants  it.  He 
should,  on  the  contrary,  show  himself  under  obligation,  or  as  honored 
by  the  acceptance  of  his  kindness,  and  consequently  fulfill  this  duty  as 
he  would  pay  a  debt  he  had  contracted  ;  or,  what  is  still  better,  practice 
benevolence  wholly  in  secret.  This  vii'tiie  is  still  greater  when  the 
means  for  being  benevolent  are  restricted  :  it  is  then  he  desen'es  to  be 
considered  as  very  rich  morally.  (Kant,  Doctrine  dc  la  Vcriu,  trad.  Fr., 
p.  128.) 

GratUudc. — Gratitude  should  be  considered  a  holy  ihity.  "We  call,  in 
fact,  holy  any  moral  object  regarding  which  no  act  could  entirely  acquit 
one  of  the  contracted  obligation.  Now  there  is  no  way  of  acquitting 
one's  self  of  a  benefit  received,  because  he  who  receives  it  cannot  refuse  to 
him  who  grants  it  the  merit  and  advantage  of  having  been  the  first  in 
showing  his  kindness. 

The  least  degree  of  gratitude  is  to  render  to  the  benefactor  equivalmit 
services.  It  is,  also,  never  to  look  upon  a  kindness  received  as  upon  a 
burden  one  would  be  glad  to  be  rid  of  (under  pretext  that  it  places  the 
one  under  obligation  in  a  position  inferior  to  that  of  his  benefactor, 
which  is  wounding  to  his  pride).  One  must,  on  the  contrary,  accept  it 
as  a  moral  kindness,  that  is  to  say,  as  fm-nishing  us  an  opportunity  to 
practice  a  virtue.     (Ibid.,  p.  130,  132.) 


DUTIES    OF   CHARITY   AXD    SELF-SACRIFICE.  12T 

70.  Precautions  which  benevolence  requires. — Benevo- 
lence should  not  be  exercised  without  reserve  and  precaution. 
In  abandoning  one's  self  to  it  imprudently,  one  may  do  more 
harm  than  good.  Cicero  on  this  subject  recommends  three 
principal  precautions : 

"  One  must  take  care,"  he  says  : 

"  1.  Lest,  in  wishing  to  do  a  person  good,  one  does  harm, 
either  to  him  or  to  others ; 

"  2.  In  the  second  place,  let  not  our  benevolence  exceed 
our  means ; 

"  3.  Finally,  let  every  one  be  treated  according  to  his 
deserts." 

1.  Those,  in  fact,  whose  benevolence  injures  him  who  is  the  object 
thereof,  should  be  looked  upon  as  flatterers,  rather  than  generous  men. 
Those  who  injure  some,  to  be  generous  towards  others  (as,  for  exam- 
ple, to  omit  paying  one's  debts,  in  order  to  exercise  charity),  commit 
the  same  injustice  as  if  they  appropriated  what  belongs  to  others.  Thus, 
when  Sylla  and  Csesar  transferred  to  strangers  the  property  of  lawful 
owners,  they  were  not  generous  ;  liberality  may  exist  then  where  justice 
is  absent. 

2.  The  second  precaution  is  to  exercise  our  benevolence  according  to 
our  means.  Those  who  wish  to  be  more  benevolent  than  they  can 
atibrd,  are  in  the  iirst  place  unjust  to  their  famUy  ;  since  the  property, 
to  the  inheritance  of  which  it  has  a  right,  goes  thus  over  to  strangers. 
Such  generosity  often  leads,  moreover,  to  the  enriching  of  one's  .self  at 
the  expense  of  others,  in  order  to  provide  for  liberalities.  One  sees, 
thus,  many  people,  more  vain  than  generous,  pass  for  being  benevolent. 
It  becomes  then  a  borrowed  virtue,  which  has  more  of  vanity  than 
liberality. 

3.  The  third  rule  is,  whilst  dispensing  our  liberalities,  to  proportion 
them  to  merit ;  to  consider  the  morals  of  him  who  is  their  object,  the 
attachment  he  shows  us,  the  different  relations  he  may  have  with  us  ; 
lastly,  the  services  he  may  have  rendered  us.  It  were  desirable  he  had 
all  these  titles  to  our  benevolence  ;  but  if  he  has  them  not  all,  the 
greatest  and  largest  in  numbers  should  weigh  most  in  the  scales. 

71.  Self-devotion  —  Self-abnegation  —  Sacrifice. — When 

charity  reaches    the    highest    degree ;    when    it    requires  Ave 
should  give  to  others  wliat  we  hold  most  dear — as,  for  instance, 


128  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

life,  fortune,  etc. — it  takes  another  name  and  is  called  devn- 
tion,  self-abnegation,  sacrifice.  These  three  words,  with  various 
shadmgs,  express  the  idea  of  a  precious  gift  of  which  one 
deprives  himself  to  benefit  others.  One  may  devote  one's  self 
to  others  in  various  ways,  in  choosing  for  one's  object  either 
the  life,  or  welfare,  or  liberty,  or  the  morality  and  intelligence 
of  others.     Let  us  examine  these  various  forms  of  devotion. 

72.  The  nature  of  the  benefit.— Diverse  forms  of  self- 
devotion. — The  life,  the  welfare,  the  morality  of  others, 
etc. — Sacrificing  ones  life  for  c^Act's.— Justice  requires  we 
should  not  attack  the  life  of  others ;  charity  requires  more : 
it  demands  that  we  make  every  effort  to  save  the  life  of  our 
fellow-beings,  even  sometimes  at  the  cost  of  our  o^vn. 

This  duty,  which  is  a  duty  of  charity  for  men  in  general,  is 
a  duty  of  justice  for  the  physician  and  all  those  who  have  care 
of  the  sick.  The  physician  owes  his  devotion  to  the  patient, 
as  the  soldier  owes  his  to  his  country.  In  both  these  cases 
medical  duty,  military  duty,  devotion  is  a  strict  duty.  It  is 
at  the  same  time  a  duty  towards  men  and  a  duty  towards  the 
[)rofession.  It  is  in  both  cases  what  may  be  called  the  honor 
of  the  flag.  Thus  do  we  every  year  see  a  certain  number  of 
young  hospital  physicians  die,  like  soldiers  on  the  field  of 
honor. 

The  duty  of  attending  the  sick  and  being  thereby  exposed 
to  contagion,  falls  alike  on  all  who  have  chosen  tliis  profession  : 
sisters  of  charity,  the  nurses,  the  male  and  female  attendants 
in  infirmaries.  It  is  also  a  duty  in  the  family ;  the  parents 
owe  themselves  to  their  children ;  the  servants  themselves 
should  assume  in  a  certain  measure  the  same  responsibility, 
although  it  is  the  duty  of  the  masters  to  spare  them  as  much 
as  possible.  Moreover,  it  is  known  how  common  this  devotion 
is,  especially  with  mothers,  and  how  many  of  them  die  of  the 
illness  they  have  contracted  at  the  bedside  of  their  cliildren. 
In  all  these  circumstances,  it  is  of  course  not  forbidden  to  be 
cautious,  and  wisdom  requires  one  should  not  go  beyond  the  _ 


^  ^'TPL>::s.  -:-CAL. 

DUTIES    OF   CHARITY    AND    SELF-SACRIFICE.         129 

strictly  necessary ;  but  the  necessary  is  obligatory ;  and  on 
whom  should  it  fall  more  naturally  than  on  the  parents  1 

Besides  the  illnesses  which  threaten  the  lives  of  men,  there 
are  dangers  more  sudden,  more  violent,  more  terrible,  which 
arise  from  the  invasion  of  the  forces  of  nature  :  fire  and  water 
are  the  most  terrible  ;  conflagrations,  inundations,  shipwrecks, 
catastrophes  of  all  kinds  imperil  the  lives  of  men. 

Here  the  question  is  no  longer  one  of  slow  and  leisurely 
attentions.  To  save  a  life  which  a  minute  later  will  be  ex- 
tinguished, there  is  wanted  a  sudden  resolution,  a  well-tested 
courage,  and  the  will  to  risk  one's  life  for  that  of  another.  In 
these  terrible  circumstances  there  are  some  men  who  seem  to 
be  more  naturally  called  than  others  to  sacrifice  themselves ; 
for  example,  firemen  and  sailors.  It  is  certain  that  it  is  those 
Avho  are  the  more  familiar  vfith.  the  element  it  is  necessary  to 
combat,  that  are  most  called  to  do  so,  and  for  whom  self-de- 
votion becomes  a  greater  duty.  But  it  is  not  always  possible 
to  have  them  immediately  at  hand ;  in  a  sudden  catastrophe, 
aU  must  take  their  shave  of  the  peril ;  all  must  be  ready  to 
give  their  life  for  others  if  they  can  do  so  with  some  utility. 

Devotion  towards  the  wretched. — Next  to  health  and  life, 
what  men  most  esteem  are  material  goods  and  that  Avhich 
is  called  fortune.  Certainly,  we  should  not  encourage  this 
estimation  men  have  for  material  goods  ;  one  shoidd  as  much 
as  possible  teach  them  to  do  without  thorn  ;  and  the  saying 
that  happiness  resides  rather  in  a  small  competence  than  in 
riches,  is  most  true.  But  it  is  not  less  true  that  the  material 
things  are  absolutely  necessary  to  life,  and  that  the  absence 
of  these  things  is  in  every  respect  prejudicial  to  man,  since 
health,  life,  and  even  the  mterests  of  the  soul  and  mind,  depend 
on  these  material  goods.  How  can  we  educate  ourselves  with- 
out eating?  How  can  we  improve  the  heart  and  soul  Avhen 
want  impels  us  to  all  sorts  of  temptations  ?  Finally,  sufiering 
itself,  though  morality  commands  us  to  bear  it  with  courage, 
is  a  legitimate  object  of  synqwthy.  From  all  these  consider- 
ations arises,  for  those  who  possess  anything,  the  obligation  to 


130  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

come  to  tlio  assistance  of  those  wlio  have  notliing :  this  is  what 
is  called  gift.  This  obligation  can  be  satisfied  in  many  Avays, 
but  the  mode  should  certainly  consist  with  the  dignity  and 
responsibility  of  those  who  are  the  object  of  the  gift.  Ex- 
perience has  shown  that  an  ill-understood  charity  encourages 
idleness  and  often  rewards  and  perpetuates  vice.  It  is  there- 
fore work  which  should  above  aU  be  furnished  to  the  poor : 
the  loan  shoidd  generally  be  preferred  to  the  gift ;  but  finally, 
whatever  procautiono  one  may  take,  and  whatever  be  the  causes 
of  the  misery,  there  comes  always  a  moment  when,  in  presence 
of  hunger,  illness,  supreme  want,  one  must  give  ;  must  deprive 
himself  for  others.  As  to  the  particular  rules  which  govern 
benevolence,  we  have  given  them  above  in  speaking  of  bene- 
factions. 

Consolations,  exhortations,  instntctions.  After  the  duties 
toward  the  body  come  the  duties  toward  the  soul :  and  this 
distinction  has  place  for  others  as  for  ourselves.  It  is  not 
enough  to  insure  and  save  the  lives  of  men,  and  give  them 
the  daily  bread ;  one  must  also  nourish  their  souls,  their 
intelligences,  their  niox-al  weaknesses,  which  also  need  suste- 
nance. Thence  three  different  obligations  :  to  console  the 
afflicted  ;  to  exhort  the  weak  ;  to  instrnct  the  ignorant.  The 
consuling  of  the  afflicted  is  a  virtue,  which  needs  no  rule,  and 
does  not  admit  of  any.  One  does  not  console  by  order, 
by  processes,  by  principles.  Here  the  heart  is  better  than 
strict  laws.  Listen  to  your  heart ;  it  will  teach  you  how  to 
be  merciful  without  being  indiscreet;  how  to  touch  without 
wounding  ;  how  to  say  enough  without  saying  too  much.  In 
respect  to  poor  people,  one  often  consoles  them  by  relieving 
their  misery,  and  the  duty  here  blends  Avith  benevolence 
After  the  consolation  come  the  exhortations.  The  duty  here 
becomes  more  and  more  delicate.  It  is  no  easy  thing  to  ad- 
vise men;  we  have  not  even  always  a  right  to  do  so;  for  it 
is  attributing  to  ourselves  a  certain  superiority  over  them. 
This  duty  of  exhortation  is  therefore  an  affectation  of  pride 
rather  than  an  inspiration  of  fraternity.     It  is  especially  with 


DUTIES   OF   CHAEITY    AXD   SELF-SACltlFICE.  131 

children,  -with  young  people,  that  good  exhortations  properly 
made  can  be  useful.  In  a  few  words,  moderate  and  just,  one 
may  often  recall  to  them  their  duties  of  respect  towards  them- 
selves, and  of  economy,  sobriety,  devotion  towards  their  rela- 
tives. Finally  comes  the  duty  of  instniction.  Here  it  is  not 
the  office  of  all,  but  only  of  those  who  are  charged  with  this 
function. '  Yet  may  we  contribute  our  share  towards  the  in- 
struction of  children  either  by  money-contributions,  or  by 
visiting  the  schools,  or  by  encouragement-societies;  in  a  Avord, 
by  all  sorts  of  auxiliary  means.  Such  are  the  principal  duties 
in  regard  to  souls. 

73.  Clemency.— Pardon  of  injuries. — Love  of  enemies. 

— The  foregohig  duties  consist  not  only  in  returning  good  for 
evd,  but  also  in  doing  good  to  those  who  have  not  done  us 
any.  A  superior  degree  of  charity,  which  is  called  generodty, 
consists  in  returning  good  for  evil,  in  forgiving  the  wicked, — 
not  the  wrong  they  have  done  to  others,  but  the  ^rrong  they 
have  done  to  ourselves.  This,  in  the  case  of  sovereigns,  is 
called  clemency.  The  saying  of  Louis  XII.  is  well  known, 
having  pardoned  the  enemies  he  had  had  before  takiag  the 
crown  :  "  The  king,"  said  he,  "  should  forget  the  injuries  done 
to  the  duke  of  Orleans."  Tbe  gi-eat  Conde  was  moved  to 
tears  over  Corneille's  celebrated  lines  in  Cinna  : 

"  Let  us  be  friends,  Cinna  ;  it  is  I  who  invite  tliee  : 
I  gave  thee  thy  life  as  to  my  enemy, 
And  despite  the  fury  of  thy  cowardly  designs, 
I  still  give  it  thee,  as  to  my  murderer." 

The  duty  of  returning  good  for  evd  goes  even  further  than 
clemency  and  the  pardon  of  injuries  :  for  this  is  nothing  more 
than  to  abstain  from  Avronging  one's  enemies.  But  we  should  do 
more  :  we  must  be  capable  of  doing  good  to  oxvc  enemies  Avhen 
they  deserve  it,  or  need  it ;  and  further  stUl,  we  should  try  to 
carry  the  virtue  even  so  far  as  to  interdict  ourselves  any 
feeling  of  pride,  which  woidd  naturally  arise  in  a  heart  great 
enousrh  to  avenge  itself  1)V  benefits. 


132  ELEMEXTS   OF    MORALS. 

The  pliilosopher  Spinoza  lias  admirably  expressed  this 
doctrine  :  "  Hatred  must  be  overcome  not  by  hatred,  but  by 
love  and  generosit)'." 

74.    Duiies  of  kindness  towards  animals.— Among  the 

moralists,  there  are  some  ■who  do  not  admit  that  Ave  have  any 
duties  towards  beings  inferior  to  man,  namely,  animals  ;  others, 
on  the  contrary,  do  not  admit  any  duties  towards  any  above 
man,  consequently  towards  God ;  others,  in  fine,  deny  that 
man  has  any  toAvards  himself.  There  are  scarcely  any  duties, 
except  those  towards  our  fellow-beings,  that  have  not  been 
questioned  by  one  or  the  other  of  the  moralists  :  some  con- 
necting the  latter  Avith  tlic  duties  toAvards  ourselves,  or  the 
duties  toAvards  God. 

According  to  us,  there  are  four  classes  of  duties,  and  these 
four  classes  are  not  reducible  the  one  to  the  other.  * 

Xo  one  can  deny  from  a  practical  point  of  vieAV  that  there 
are  duties  toAvards  animals ;  for  we  knoAv  very  aacU  that  it  is 
not  permitted  to  maltreat  them  or  cause  them  mmecessary 
pain ;  and  ever}'  enlightened  conscience  condemns  cruelty  to 
animals.  Therefore  can  there  be  here  question  only  of  a  spec- 
ulative scruple.  It  can  be  very  Avell  seen  that  there  is  a  duty 
here ;  but  it  is,  they  say,  a  duty  tOAA'ards  ourselves ;  for  it  is 
our  duty  not  to  be  cruel,  and  cruelty  tow'ard  animals  accustoms 
us  too  easily  to  cruelty  toAvard  men.  But  this  is  a  very  use- 
less subtlety,  and  too  roundabout  a  way  to  express  a  very 
simple  thing.  We  prefer  simply  saying  that  kindness  toAvard 
an  animal  is  a  duty  toAvard  that  animal. 

Besides,  the  reasons  given  against  the  duties  toAvard  animals, 
appear  to  us  more  specious  than  substantial.  It  is  said  that 
animals,  having  neither  Avill  nor  intelligence,  are  not  persons, 
but  ihinr/s  ;  that,  consequently,  they  have  no  rights,  and  that 
Ave  can  have  no  duties  toAA^ard  Avhat  has  no  rights. 

These  are  inadmissible  subtleties.  One  can,  in  laAV  terms, 
divide  all  oljjects   of   nature  into   persons   and  things;    and 

*  .See  our  Morale,  liv.  II.,  cli.  v. 


DUTIES   OF    CHAKITY    AXD    SELF-SACEIFICE.  l.io 

animals,  not  being  pereons,  are  things,  in  the  sense  that  they 
can  be  appropriated.  But,  strictly  speaking,  can  a  being  en- 
dowed with  sensibility  be  called  a  thing  1  Is  it  true,  moreover, 
that  an  animal  has  no  intelligence,  no  will — that  consequently 
it  has  not  any  vestige  of  personality?  Is  it  true  again  that  an 
animal  has  no  kind  of  rights  ?  This,  in  the  first  place,  is  to 
suppose  what  is  in  question.  And,  moreover,  does  not  con- 
science say  to  us  that  an  animal  which  has  served  us  long 
years  with  affection  has  thereby  acquired  a  certain  right  to  our 
gratitude  ?  And,  finally,  is  it  really  true  that  we  havfe  only 
duties  towards  those  that  have  duties  towards  us  ?  That  were 
a  very  perilous  maxim  in  social  morality.  We  are  told  not  to 
be  cruel  to  animals  in  order  not  to  become  cruel  towards  men. 
But  if  one  were  sure  not  to  become  cruel  towards  men,  would 
it  follov/  therefrom  tliat  it  is  permitted  to  be  so  towards  ani- 
mals 1  No,  it  will  be  said ;  but  it  is  because  crueltj',  though 
its  object  be  only  animals,  is  in  itself  a  vice,  base  and  un- 
worthy of  man.  One  should  not  conclude  from  that,  that 
cruelty  is  a  direct  crime  against  them.  But  for  the  same 
reason  it  might  be  maintained  that  we  have  no  duties  toward 
others,  and  only  toward  ourselves ;  injustice,  cruelty,  are  odious 
vices  in  themselves ;  goodness  and  justice,  noble  qualities ; 
we  should  shun  the  one  and  avoid  the  other  out  of  respect  for 
ourselves,  and  regardless  of  the  object  of  these  vices  and  virtues. 
If,  despite  these  considerations,  it  is  then  thought  better  to 
make,  nevertheless,  a  distinction  between  the  duties  toward 
others  and  those  toward  ourselves,  there  should  for  the  same 
reason  be  made  a  distinct  class  of  the  duties  toAvard  animals. 
Finally,  if  we  owe  nothing  to  animals,  it  is  not  very  clear  wliy 
acts  hypothetically  indifferent  should  be  treated  as  cruelties ; 
nor  why  such  acts  should  be  considered  as  lowering  and  dis- 
honoring the  character. 

On  the  whole,  and  to  avoid  all  theoretical  difficulties,  it 
may  be  said  that  we  have  duties,  if  not  toward  animals,  at 
least  in  regard  to  animals. 

Owv  duties  in  regard  to  animals,  are  thev,  however,  of  a  kind 


134  ELEilEXTS   OF   MORALS. 

to  make  us  doubt  our  right  to  destroy  or  reduce  them  to 
servitude  ? 

The  destruction  of  animals  may  have  two  causes ;  it  may 
be  for  our  defense,  it  may  be  for  our  subsistence.  As  to  the 
iirst  there  is  no  difficulty ;  the  right  of  legitimate  self-defense 
authorizes  us  to  destroy  Avhat  would  otherwise  destroy  us. 
Between  us  and  beasts  injurious  to  man  there  is  evidently  a 
state  of  natural  war,  and  in  that  state  the  law  is  that  might 
makes  right.  This  same  law  is  the  one  which  regidates  the 
relatidns  of  the  animals  between  themselves :  it  is  also  their 
law  in  regard  to  us.  The  lion,  for  instance,  might  not  always 
be  as  tenderly  inclined  as  the  lion  of  Androcles  or  the  Hon  of 
Florence  :  it  would  not  be  well  to  trust  it.  We  need  not, 
therefore,  even  theoretically,  entertain  any  scruples  concerning 
the  destruction  of  injurious  animals. 

Is  it  the  same  with  the  destruction  of  animals  intended  for 
our  nourishment  ?  Is  this  destruction  innocent,  or  must  we, 
as  did  the  Pythagoreans  or  BrahmLiis  of  old  (for  superstitious 
reasons,  however),  interdict  all  animal  food  1*  This  question 
has  been  so  well  solved  by  general  usage  that  it  is  scarcely 
necessary  to  raise  it.  It  is  not  likely  men  Avill  ever  think  of 
giving  up  animal  food,  and  no  one  regrets  having  eaten  of  a 
good  roast.  Yet  for  those  who  like  to  find  out  the  reason  of 
things,  it  is  a  problem  to  know  Avhether  we  have  the  right  to 
do  what  Ave  do  without  remorse  and  scruples ;  and  Avhether  a 
universal  and  apparently  indestructible  practice  is  also  a  legiti- 
mate and  innocent  practice.  Man,  according  to  us,  in  living 
on  flesh,  is  justified  by  nature  herself,  Avho  made  him  a  car- 
nivorous creature.  Every  being  is  authorized  to  perform  the 
acts  which  result  from  its  organization.!  The  human  organi- 
zation, as  the  nature  of  the  teeth  and  the  whole  digestive  sys- 
tem indicate,  is  prepared  to  nourish  itself  with  flesh.  In 
many  countries  even  all  other   nourishment  is  impossible ; 

♦  Abstinence  from  the  flesh  of  animals  was  based  by  Pythagoras,  as  it  was  with 
the  Brahmins,  upon  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis, 
t  The  question  is  as  to  the  acts  themselves,  and  not  their  abuse. 


DUTIES   OF   CHARITY    AND    SELF-SACRIFICE,  135 

there  are  peoples  whose  very  situation  makes  them  necessarily 
hunters,  fishermen,  or  shepherds ;  it  is  only  in  some  countries 
higlily  favored,  and,  thanks  to  scientific  cultivation,  the  result 
of  civiUzation,  that  vegetable  food  could  be  made  abundant 
enough  to  suffice,  and  hardly  that  for  large  masses  of  popula- 
tion ;  for  we  know  quite  well  w'hat  disasters  follow  upon  a 
scarcity  of  crops.  What  would  be  the  result  if  the  human 
race  were  deprived  of  half  its  means  of  subsistence  ?  Add  to 
this  that,  whatever  may  have  been  said  against  it,  animal  food 
mixed  in  a  certain  measure  with  vegetable  food,  is  indispen- 
sable to  the  health  and  vigor  of  the  human  race. 

As  to  the  servitude  of  animals  and  the  labor  we  impose  on 
them,  its  justification  lies  first  in  the  principle  of  legitimate 
self-defense,  to  Avhich  we  have  just  now  alluded.  Many  of 
our  domestic  races  would,  in  a  savage  state,  become  veritable 
wild  beasts.  The  wild  hog  is,  they  say,  the  "svild  boar ;  the 
Avild  dog,  the  jackal  ;  the  "svild  cat  belongs  to  the  leopard  and 
tio'er  family.  In  reducing  these  sorts  of  animals  to  servitude, 
and  in  making  of  them  companions  and  help-mates  in  our 
Avork,  we  thereby  deliver  ourselves  from  dangerous  enemies. 
Domestication  is  better  than  destruction.  Add  to  this,  that 
if  we  except  the  first  animals  which  have  passed  from  the 
savage  state  to  the  domestic  state  (which,  as  to  our  domestic 
races,  is  lost  in  the  night  of  time  and  escapes  all  responsibility), 
the  present  animals,  born  in  servitude,  know  no  other  state, 
do  not  suffer  from  a  want  of  liberty,  and  find  even,  thanks  to 
our  cares,  a  more  certain  subsistence  than  if  they  w^ere  free. 
They  are,  it  is  true,  sacrificed  by  us  to  our  wants,  but  they 
would  be  so  by  other  animals  in  the  savage  state.  Whether 
a  sheep  be  eaten  by  men  or  wolves,  it  is  not  to  be  more  pitied 
for  that,  one  way  or  the  other. 

The  right  of  man  over  animals  being  set  aside,  there  re- 
mains an  essential  duty  respecting  them,  namely  :  not  to  make 
them  sufi"er  without  necessity. 

Fontenelle  relates  that,  having  gone  one  day  to  see  Male- 


13G  ELEMENTS   OP   MOKALS. 

branche,*  at  the  fathers  of  the  Oratoire,  a  dog  of  tlie  house, 
big  with  young,  entered  the  room  and  rolled  about  at  the  feet 
of  the  father.  After  having  tried  in  vain  to  drive  it  away, 
Malebranche  gave  the  dog  a  kick  which  caused  it  to  utter  a 
cry  of  pain  and  Fontenelle  a  cry  of  compassion  :  "  Oh,  pshaw  •  " 
said  father  Malebranche,  coolly,  "  do  you  not  know  that  these 
things  do  not  feel  ?" 

How  could  this  philosopher  be  sure  that  these  things  did 
not  feel  ?  Is  not  the  animal  organized  in  the  same  manner  as 
man  ?  Has  he  not  the  same  senses,  the  same  nervous  system  ? 
Does  he  not  give  the  same  signs  of  impressions  received? 
Why  should  not  the  cry  of  the  animal  express  pain  as  does 
the  cry  of  a  child  1  When  man  is  not  perverted  by  custom, 
cruelty,  or  the  spirit  of  system,  he  cannot  see  the  sufferings  of 
animals  without  suffering  himself,  a  manifest  proof  that  there 
is  sometliing  in  common  between  them  and  us,  for  sympathy 
is  by  reason  of  similitude. 

Animals,  then,  suffer ;  this  is  undeniable ;  they  have,  like 
ourselves,  a  physical  sensibility ;  but  they  have  also  a  certain 
moral  sensibility  ;  they  are  capable  of  attachment,  of  gratitude, 
of  fidelity  ;  of  love  for  their  little  ones,  of  reciprocal  affection. 
From  this  physical  and  moral  analogy  between  men  and  ani- 
mals, there  obviously  results  the  obligation  of  inflicting  upon 
them  no  useless  suffering.  Madame  jNTecker  de  Saussuref  re- 
lates the  story  of  a  child  who,  finding  himself  in  a  garden 
where  a  tamed  quail  was  freely  running  about  beside  the  cage 
of  a  bird  of  prey,  yielded  to  the  temptation  of  seizing  the 
poor  quail  and  giving  it  to  the  bird  to  devour.  The  hero  of 
this  adventure  relates  Inmself  the  punishment  inflicted  on 
liim  : 

"  At  dinner — there  was  a  great  deal  of  company  that  day — 
tlie  master  of  the  house  began  to  relate  the  scene,  coolly  and 
without   any  remarks,   simply   naming   me.     When   he   was 

♦  A  philosopher  of  the  school  of  Descartes,  who,  like  liis  master,  taught  that  ani- 
mals are  machines, 
t  FAncation  progressive,  VI.,  iv. 


DUTIES   OF   CHARITY    AND    SELF-SACRIFICE.  137 

through,  there  was  a  moment  of  general  silence,  Avhere  every 
one  looked  at  me  with  a  kind  of  horror.  I  heard  some  words 
exchanged  among  the  guests,  and  without  any  one's  directly 
speaking  to  me,  I  could  understand  that  everyl)ody  thought 
me  a  monster." 

Connected  with  the  cruelty  toward  animals  are  certain 
barbarous  games  where  animals  are  made  to  fight  with  each 
other  for  our  pleasure.  Such  are  the  bull-fights  in  »Spain  ; 
the  cock-fights  in  England ;  Ave  do  not  go  so  far  as  to  rank 
the  chase  among  inhuman  games,  Ixx-iuse,  on  the  one  hand,  it 
has  for  its  object  to  destroy  the  animals  injurious  to  our  forests 
and  crops,  and  to  furnish  us  useful  food;  and  on  the  other,  it 
is  an  exercise  favorable  to  health,  and  exercises  certain  facul- 
ties of  the  soul ;  but  the  chase  must  at  least  not  be  a  mas- 
sacre, and  must  have  for  its  end  iitility. 

Brutality  toward  the  animals  which  render  us  the  greatest 
services,  and  which  Ave  see  every  day  loaded  beyond  their 
strength,  and  beaten  to  bear  up  under  the  load,  is  also  an 
odious  act,  and  doubly  Avrong,  as  it  is  both  contrary  to  hu- 
manity and  contrary  to  our  interests,  since  these  animals, 
overloaded  and  beaten,  Avill  not  be  long  in  succumbing  to  the 
violence  of  their  persecutors. 

Nor  can  we  consider  as  absolutely  indifferent  the  act  of 
killing  or  selling  (except  in  cases  of  extreme  necessity)  a  do- 
mestic animal  that  has  served  us  a  long  time,  and  Avhose 
attachment  Ave  have  experienced.  "  Among  the  conquerors 
at  the  Olympic  Games,"  the  ancients  tell  us,  "  many  share 
the  distinctions  which  they  receive  with  the  horses  Avhich 
have  helped  to  procure  them  ;  they  provide  for  them  a  happy 
old  age ;  they  accord  them  an  honorable  burial,  and  some- 
times even  raise  a  monument  OA'er  their  graves." 

"  It  is  not  reasonalile,"  says  Plutarch,  "to  use  things  which  have  life 
and  feeling,  as  we  would  use  a  shoe  or  any  other  instrument,  throwing 
it  away  when  worn  out  and  ruined  by  dint  of  service  done  ;  if  it  were 
for  no  other  cause  than  to  induce  and  stimulate  us  to  constant  compas- 
sion, we  should  accustom  ourselves  to  gentleness  and  charitableness, 


138  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

even  to  performing  the  humblest  offices  of  kindness  ;  as  for  me,  I  should 
never  have  the  heart  to  sell  an  ox  who  for  a  long  time  had  ploughed 
my  land,  because,  by  reason  of  old  age,  he  can  no  longer  work. " 

A  very  serious  question  has  been  raised  these  latter  times, 
namely,  the  question  of  vivisection,  and  how  far,  in  a  scientific 
point  of  view,  we  have  a  right  to  practice  on  living  animals. 
The  point  is  not  to  interdict  to  science  what  is  the  indispen- 
sable condition  of  its  progress  and  propagation ;  but  we  should 
limit  ourself  to  the  strictly  necessary,  and  not  with  revolt- 
ing prodigality  midtiply  sacrifices  that  are  not  absolutely 
useful. 

One  of  the  principal  reasons  for  condemning  cruelty  toward 
animals,  is  that  through  the  instinct  of  imitation  and  sym- 
pathy men  may  get  into  the  habit  of  doing  to  others  Avhat 
they  have  seen  practiced  on  animals.  There  is  a  story  of  a 
child  who  caused  his  brother  to  suffer  the  same  death  he  had 
just  seen  infli-cted  on  an  animal.* 

The  men  Avho  are  brutal  toward  animals  are  likewise  so 
towa-'d  each  other,  and  treat  with  the  same  cruelty  their  wives 
and  children. 

It  is  by  reason  of  these  considerations  of  social  utihty  and 
Iiumanity  that  the  law  in  France  decided  to  interfere  to  pre- 
vent and  punish  the  bad  treatment  inflictetl  upon  animals  ;t 
and  the  consequences  of  tliis  measure  have  been  most  happy. 

*  Bulletin  de  la  Societe  Protectrice  des  Animaux.    June,  TS6S. 

t  Law  of  the  2cl  July,  1850,  called  Grammont  Imw:  "Shall  be  punishable  by  a 
fine  of  from  five  to  fifteen  francs,  or  from  one  to  five  days'  imprisonment,  any  one  who 
shall  publicly  and  abusively  have  maltreated  domestic  animals.  In  case  of  repeti- 
tion of  the  offence,  imprisonment. 

A  society — Societe  Protectrice  des  Animaiix — has  been  formed  to  come  in  aid  to  the 
law.  The  principal  articles  of  its  statutes  am  :  "  Tlie  aim  of  the  society  is  to  ame- 
liorate, by  all  the  means  in  its  power,  and  conformably  to  the  law  of  the  2d  of  July, 
1850,  the  condition  of  animals.  The  society  awards  recompenses  to  any  propagating 
its  work  and  inventing  proper  means  to  the  relief  of  animals  ;  to  the  agents  of  the 
police,  pointed  out  by  their  chiefs  as  having  enforced  the  laws  and  regulations  for 
the  prevention  of  cruelty  and  ill-treatment  towards  animals  ;— to  the  agents  of  agri- 
culture, shepherds,  farm-help,  fanners,  leaders  of  cattle  ; — to  coachmen,  butcher- 
boys,  smiths— in  short,  to  any  person  who,  in  some  high  degree,  shall  have  given 
proof  of  good  treatment,  intelligent  and  continued  care  and  compassion  toward  ani- 
mals."   See  in  its  Bulletins,  the  useful  results  obtained  by  this  interesting  society. 


CHAPTEPv    VII. 

DUTIES   TOWARD   THE    STATE. 


SUMMARY. 

Three  groups  of  societies  among  men :  Humanity,  the  family,  the 

country,  or  the  State. 
Analysis  of  patriotism. 

Foundation  of  the  State.— La\v  and  rights.  Public  authority:  dis- 
tinction between  society  and  the  State.  The  three  powers.  Sov- 
ereignty. The  right  of  punishment. 
Duties  toward  the  State:  1.  Obedience  to  the  laws. — The  Crito  of 
Plato.  Pretended  exceptions  to  this  principle.  Criticising  the  laws 
is  not  disobedience. 

2.  .Respect  to  magistrates. — The  magistrates  being  the  representa- 
tives of  the  laws,  to  respect  them  is  to  respect  the  law  itself ;  to  insult 
them  is  to  insult  the  law. 

3.  The  ballot. — Obligation  to  vote.  The  character  of  the  ballot  : 
1,  disinterested ;  2,  free;  3,   enlightened. 

4.  Taxes.  — Immorality  of  frauds  against  the  State. 

5.  Military  service. — Legal  and  moral  obligation.  Attempts  to 
escape  it :  1,  by  mutilations  ;  2,  by  .simulated  infirmities  ;  3,  by  deser- 
tion ;  want  of  discipline. 

6.  Educational  obligation. 

Civil  courage. — Noted  example :  Boissy  d'Anglas. 

75.  Three  groups  of  societies. — Cicero  and  Fenelon 
remark  that  there  are  three  sorts  of  societies  among  men :  the 
first  comprises  the  whole  of  humanity ;  the  last,  which  is  the 
most  circumscribed,  is  wliat  is  called  the  family.  But  between 
the  family  and  the  human  race  in  general,  there  is  an  inter- 
mediate society,  larger  than  the  one  and  more  circumscribed 
than  the  other,  and  this  is  what  is  called  the  country. 


140  ELEMENTS    OF   MOEALS. 

76.  Patriotism. — The  sentiment  which  binds  us  to  the 
country,  and  which,  articulated,  becomes  a  duty,  is  Avhat  is 
called  patriotism.  We  have  already  given  elsewhere,*  an 
analysis  of  patriotism.    Let  us  repeat  Avhat  we  have  said : 

Patriotism  is  one  of  our  most  complex  sentiments  :  it  is  in  fact  com- 
posed of  many  distinct  elements  :  it  is,  in  the  fij-st  place,  the  love  of  the 
soil  where  we  were  born  ;  and  this  soil  is  at  Jii-st  the  narrow  tenitory 
where  our  youth  passed,  and  which  we  embraced  entire  with  the  eyes 
and  recollections  :  it  is  the  native  village,  the  native  city.  But  if  this 
is  the  first  sense  of  country,  it  falls  far  short  of  embracing  the  whole 
country.  The  love  for  the  native  church  steeple  is  not  patriotism  :  it  is 
even  its  opposite  often.  The  soil  must  extend,  widen,  and  from  the 
natal  house,  must  gradually  embrace,  bj'  successive  additions,  the 
\'illage,  the  town,  the  county,  the  province,  the  whole  country.  But 
what  is  to  determine  the  extent  of  this  territory  ?  AVho  is  to  decide 
that  it  shall  go  so  far  and  no  farther  ?  There  enter  into  it  many  ele- 
ments :  first,  the  iuhabitant.s,  the  fellow-citizens,  fellow-countrymen  ; 
a  soil  deserted  would  not  be  a  country  ;  to  the  love  of  the  territory  there 
must  be  added  the  love  of  those  who  inhabit  it  with  us,  or  of  ouvfelloic- 
countrymen;  to  the  nomadic  people  the  country  is  only  their  tribe. 
Conversely,  the  citizens  without  the  soil  are  not  the  country  either,  for 
exile  in  common  is  not  the  less  exile.  Finally,  the  union  of  soil  and 
fellow-citizens  may  still  not  be  the  country,  at  least  not  all  the  country  ; 
a  conquered  nation  may  preserve  its  soil  and  its  inhabitants,  and  have 
lost  the  country  :  as  Poland,  for  instance.  Y\liat,  then,  are  the  ties  to 
determine  the  existence  of  a  country  ?  There  are  a  large  number  of 
them,  such  as  tlie  unity  of  language,  tlie  unity  of  laws,  the  unity  of  the 
flag,  historic  tradition,  and,  finally,  above  all,  the  unity  of  goveDimcni 
and  of  an  accepted  government.  A  country  exists  only  where  there  is 
an  independent  political  state.  This  political  unity  does  not  suffice 
when  the  other  ties  are  wanting  ;  when  it  is  a  constraint,  when  peoples 
united  under  the  same  government  have  ditterent  manners,  customs, 
traditions  ;  conversely,  unity  of  language  and  community  of  habits,  will 
neither  be  sufficient  when  the  political  unity  or  a  certain  form  of  polit- 
ical unity  is  wanting.  But  what,  before  everything  else,  constitutes 
the  countr}',  is  a  common  spirit,  a  common  soul,  in  short,  a  common 
name,  which  fuses  into  one  all  these  separate  facts  of  which  no  single 
one  is  absolutely  necessar\',  but  of  which  each  forms  an  additional  ele- 
ment to  the  strength  of  the  countrj'.     Finally,  as  a  last  condition,  the 

*  Traite  clemcntaire  de  philosojihie,  p.  262. 


DUTIES   TOWARD   THE    STATE.  141 

association  wMcli  is  to  become  a  country  must  not,  as  was  the  case  with 
the  Roman  empire,  extend  over  too  much  territor}- ;  for  beyond  certain 
limits,  patriotism  relaxes. 

Xature  has  endowed  us  with  this  sentimeut  of  patriotism. 
There  is  no  one  that  does  not  love  his  country  better  than 
other  countries,  that  is  not  flattered  by  national  glory,  that 
does  not  suffer  from  the  humiliations  and  miseries  of  his 
native  country.  But  this  sentiment  is  more  or  less  strong, 
according  to  temperaments.  Often  it  is  nothing  more  than  a 
sentiment,  and  does  not  express  itself  in  actions.  It  is  the 
reflective  faculties  which  make  of  patriotism  a  duty,  which 
duty  demands  that  sentiment  pass  into  action ;  demands  of  all 
the  citizens  the  same  acts,  Avhatever  be  the  personal  inclina- 
tions of  each. 

The  duties  imposed  on  each  man  in  regard  to  the  particular 
society  of  which  he  is  a  member,  are  called  civil  duties.  He, 
himself,  in  regard  to  this  society,  is  what  is  called  a  citizen; 
finally,  the  society  itself,  considered  as  one  and  the  same  per- 
son, of  which  the  citizens  are  the  members,  is  what  is  called 
the  State  or  the  city. 

On  the  whole,  there  is  no  difference  between  country  and 
State.  Country  is  at  the  same  time  Society  and  soil.  It  is 
called  by  that  name  (State)  when  looked  upon  in  the  light 
of  a  family  of  which  the  citizens  are  the  children,  and  also 
when  considered  in  its  relations  with  other  nations  and  other 
societies.  The  State  is  that  same  society  considered  interiorly 
and  in  itself,  not  as  to  its  soil  and  territory,  but  as  to  the 
members  that  compose  it,  and  in  as  far  as  these  members  form 
one  and  the  same  body  and  are  governed  by  laws.  The 
country  is  a  more  concrete  and  more  vivid  expression,  which 
appeals  more  to  the  feelings ;  the  State  is  a  more  abstract  ex- 
pression, Avhich  addresses  itself  to  reason.  Besides,  we  shall 
understand  better  what  is  meant  by  the  State,  when  we  shall 
have  explained  the  nature  of  public  authority  and  the  laws. 

77.  Foundation  of  the  State— Rights. — To  imderstand  the 


142  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

nature  of  the  State  and  what  is  called  authority,  sovereignty, 
magistracy,  laio,  one  must  begin  with  the  notion  of  rights  and 
of  the  different  kinds  of  rights. 

Duty  is  the  law  which  imposes  on  us  obligations  either  to- 
ward ourselves  or  toward  others  ;  it  is  a  moral  necessity  (p. 
11).  Rights  is  the  j^oicer  we  have  to  exercise  and  develop 
our  faculties  conformably  to  our  destiny,  provided  we  allow 
other  men  the  same  powder :  it  is  a  moral  j^oice)'  (Leibnitz). 
Each  man,  by  reason  of  his  enjoying  liberty  and  intelligence, 
is  a  person,  and  should  not  be  treated  as  a  thing.  "  Man  is  a 
thing  sacred  to  man,"  said  the  ancients.  He  is  inviolable  in 
his  personality  and  in  all  that  constitutes  the  development  of 
his  personality. 

Thence  follows  an  immediate  consequence  :  it  is,  that  every 
man  being  man  by  the  same  title,  no  one  can  claim  for  him- 
self a  right  wliich  he  is  not  willing  to  recognize  at  the  same 
time  in  another;  hence  the  erjnality  of  rights.  Besides,  the 
liberty  of  one  cannot,  without  contradiction,  suppress  the  lib- 
erty of  another,  whence  this  other  definition  :  Eight  is  the 
accord  of  liliprties. 

78.  The  rights  of  man. — "What  are  the  principal  rights  of 
man  1  They  are  :  the  right  of  self-preservation  ;  the  right  of 
going  and  coming,  or  indiridiud  liberty  ;  the  liberty  of  work  ; 
tlie  right  of  property  ;  the  liberty  of  thought ;  tlie  liberty  of 
conscience  ;  the  right  of  family,  etc. 

We  have  also  seen  that  man  (p.  52)  has  a  final  right  which 
is  the  guaranty  and  the  sanction  of  all  others  ;  it  is  the  right 
of  preventing  by  force  every  attempt  at  his  rights ;  to  con- 
strain others  to  respect  his  rights,  and  lastly,  to  punish  every 
violation  of  his  rights.  This  is  what  is  called  the  right  of 
self -defence. 

79.  Public  authority. — Man  having,  as  we  have  just  seen, 
the  right  of  self-defense  by  opposing  force  to  any  attack,  pos- 
sesses, when  alone,  and  far  from  all  human  help,  this  right  in 
all  its  plenitude.  But  it  is  easy  to  see  the  dangers  and  inex- 
l)cdiency  of  such  a  right  in  a  society.     Each  man,  in  fact, 


DUTIES   TOWARD   THE   STATE.  143 

when  he  meets  with  opposition  to  his  will  and  desires,  always 
thinks  himself  injured  in  his  rights.  If  every  one  were  free 
to  defend  himself  in  all  circumstances,  the  right  of  self-defense 
would  keep  men  constantly  under  arms ;  and  society,  without 
a  regulating  power  to  check  their  doings,  would  soon,  as  the 
philosopher  Hobbes  expressed  it,  be  "  the  tear  of  all  cujaind  all" 
Hence  the  necessity  of  the  State — that  is  to  say,  of  a  disinter- 
ested loower — taking  in  hand  the  defense  of  all,  and  insuring  the 
proper  exercise  of  the  right  of  self-defense  by  suppressing  its 
abuses.     This  is  what  is  called  public  autliority. 

80.  Society  and  the  State. — We  must  distinguish  be- 
tween sGciety  and  the  State,  or  natural  society  and  civil  so- 
ciety. 

Society  is  the  union  which  exists  between  men,  without 
distinction  of  frontiers — without  exterior  restraint — and  for 
the  sole  reason  that  they  are  men.  An  Englishman  and  an 
Indian,  as  Locke  says,  meeting  in  the  waste  forests  of  America 
(Robinson  and  Friday),  are,  from  the  fact  alone  of  their  coni- 
jnon  nature,  in  a  state  of  society. 

The  civil  society  or  State  is  an  assemblage  of  men  subject 
to  a  common  authority,  to  common  hues — that  is  to  say,  a  so- 
ciety whose  members  may  be  constrained  by  public  force  to 
respect  their  reciprocal  rights. 

81.  The  three  powers. — There  results  from  that,  that  two 
necessary  elements  enter  into  the  idea  of  the  State :  laws  and 
force.  The  laws  are  the  general  rules  which  establish  before- 
hand and  fix  after  deliberation,  and  abstractly,  the  rights  of 
each ;  force  is  the  physical  restraint  the  public  power  is  armed 
with  to  have  the  laws  executed.  Hence  two  powers  in  tlie 
State,  the  legislcdive  power  and  the  executive  power — one  that 
makes  the  law ;  the  other  that  executes  it,  and  to  which  may 
generally  be  added  a  third,  namely,  judiciary  power,  which, 
on  its  part,  is  empowered  to  apjjly  and  interpret  the  law.* 

82.  Sovereignty. — These   three   powers   emanate   from  a 

*  Concerning  these  three  powers,  see  Montesquieu,  Esprit  des  his,  I.,  xi. 


144  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

common  source  which  is  called  sovereign.  In  all  States,  the 
sovereign  is  the  authority  which  is  in  possession  of  the  three 
preceding  powers  and  delegates  them.  In  an  absolute  mon- 
archy, the  sovereign  is  the  monarch,  who  of  himself  exercises 
the  legislative  and  executive  power,  sometimes  even  the  ju- 
dicial power.  In  a  democracy,  the  sovereign  is  the  univer- 
sality of  the  citizens,  or  the  people,  which  delegates  the  three 
powers,  and  even  in  some  cases  exercises  them. 

As  to  the  basis  of  sovereignty,  two  systems  face  each  other  : 
the  divine  right  and  the  sovereignty  of  tlie  people.  In  the  first, 
the  authority  emanates  from  God,  who  transmits  it  to  chosen 
families ;  in  the  second,  societies,  like  individuals,  are  free 
arbiters,  and  belong  to  themselves ;  they  are  answerable  for 
their  destinies  ;  and  this  can  only  be  true  of  the  entire  societj"; 
for  why  should  certain  classes  rather  than  others  have  the 
privilege  to  decide  about  the  fate  of  each  1  The  sovereignty 
of  the  people  is  then  nothing  else  than  the  right  of  each  to 
participate  in  public  power,  either  of  himself  or  through  his 
representatives.  This  principle  tends  more  and  more  to  pre- 
dominate in  civilized  States. 

83.  Political  liberty. — Political  liberty  means  all  the 
guaranties  which  insure  to  every  citizen  the  legitimate  exer- 
cise of  his  natural  rights ;  political  liberty  is,  then,  the  sanc- 
tion of  civil  liberty. 

The  principal  of  these  guaranties  are  :  1,  the  right  of  suf- 
frage, which  insures  to  every  one  his  share  of  sovereignty ;  2, 
the  separation  of  poicers,  which  puts  into  diiferent  hands  chc 
executive,  legislative,  and  judicial  powers  ;  3,  the  liberty  of  the 
press,  which  insures  the  right  of  minorities,  and  allows  them 
to  employ  argument  to  change  or  modify  the  ideas  and  opin- 
ions of  the  majority. 

84.  The  right  of  punishment. — The  right  of  punishment 
in  a  State  is  nothing  else  than  the  right  of  restraint,  which,  as 
we  have  already  seen,  is  inherent  in  the  very  idea  of  the 
State ;  for  the  State  only  exists  to  insure  to  each  the  exercise 
of  his  rights,  and  it  can  only  do  so  by  restraint  and  the  use  of 


DCTIES   TOWARD   TUE   STATE.  145 

force.  How  far  can  this  right  of  force  go  ?  Can  it,  for  ex- 
ample, go  so  far  as  the  taking  of  life  even  1  This  is  a  mooted 
question  between  publicists,  and  upon  which  we  have,  more- 
over, already  expressed  ourselves  (p.  55  et  set/.). 

After  having  in  these  summary  views  resoh-ed  the  principle 
upon  which  the  State  rests,*  and  the  essential  elements  which 
enter  into  the  idea,  we  are  better  prepared  to  approach  what 
constitutes  the  object  proper  of  civil  morality,  namely,  the 
duties  of  citizens  toward  the  country  or  the  State. 

85.  Civil  duties. — These  duties  are  the  following:  Obedi- 
ence to  the  laics;  res^jed  of  magistrates ;  the  ballot ;  military 
service  ;  educational  obligations. 

86.  Obedience  to  the  laws. — The  first  of  the  civil  duties, 
is  obedience  to  the  laws.  The  reason  is  evident.  The  State 
rests  on  the  law.  It  is  the  law  which  substitutes,  for  the  will 
of  individuals,  always  more  or  less  carried  away  by  passion  or 
governed  by  self-interest,  a  general,  impartial,  and  disinterested 
rule.  The  law  is  the  guaranty  of  aU :  it  opposes  itself  to 
force,  or  rather  puts  force  in  the  service  of  justice,  instead  of 
making  of  justice  the  slave  of  force.  Pascal  says :  "  Not 
being  able  to  make  that  wliich  is  just,  strong,  men  have  wished 
that  what  is  strong  should  be  just."  This  is  the  jest  of  a 
misanthrope.  Certainly  the  laws  are  not  always  as  just  as 
they  might  be,  despite  the  efforts  made  to  render  them  so : 
the  reason  of  it  is,  the  extreme  complexity  of  interests  be- 
tween which  it  is  difficult  to  find  a  true  balance  and  just  equi- 
librium ;  but  such  as  they  are,  they  are  infinitely  more  just 
than  the  right  of  the  strongest,  which  would  alone  reign  if 
there  were  no  laws. 

The  empire  of  the  laws  is  then  that  which  secures  ordei'  in 
a  society,  and  consequently  procures  for  each  of  its  members 
security  and  peace,  and  through  these,  the  means  cf  devoting 
hi ui self  to  his  work,  whether  intellectual  or  material,  and  of 
reaping  the  fruits  thereof. 

*  See  on  this  subject  the  Notions  d'instrvction  civique. 


14t3  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  law  guarantees  order  within,  it 
also  insures  the  independence  of  the  nation  from  without. 
For  a  nation  without  laws,  or  which  no  longer  obeys  its  laws, 
falls  into  anarchy  and  becomes  the  prey  of  the  first  conqueror 
who  presents  himself,  as  is  shown  by  the  history  of  Poland. 

It  is  especially  in  democratic  or  republican  states,  tiiat 
obedience  to  the  laws  is  necessary,  as  it  is  there  the  most 
difficult. 

Montesquieu  has  shown  with  great  sagacity  the  difficulty 
and  thereby  the  necessity  of  obedience  to  the  laws  in  a  democ- 
racy ;  in  fact,  what  in  other  governments  is  obtained  by  con- 
straint, in  a  democracy  depends  only  upon  the  will  of  the 
citizens. 

"It  is  clear,"  says  Montesquieu,  "that  in  a  monarchy,  where  he 
who  causes  the  laws  to  be  executed  is  above  the  laws,  there  is  less 
virtue  re(iuisite  than  in  a  popular  government,  where  he  who  causes 
the  laws  to  be  executed,  feels  that  he  is  himself  subject  to  them,  and  will 
have  to  bear  the  consequence  of  their  violation. 

"  It  is  further  clear  that  a  monarch  who,  through  bad  advice  or  negli- 
gence, ceases  to  have  the  laws  executed,  may  easily  repair  the  evil  ;  he 
has  but  to  change  counselors  or  correct  himself  of  his  negligence.  But 
when  in  a  popular  government,  the  laws  have  ceased  to  be  executed,  as 
this  can  only  happen  through  the  corruption  of  the  republic,  the  State 
is  already  lost." 

Montesquieu  then  describes,  in  the  strongest  and  liveliest 
colors,  a  republican  state  where  the  laws  have  ceased  to  be 
enforced. 

' '  They  were  free  with  the  laws  ;  they  wish  to  be  free  without  them. 
Each  citizen  is  as  a  slave  escaped  from  the  house  of  his  master.  What 
before  was  called  onaxim,  is  now  called  severity ;  what  was  rule  is  now 
annoying  restraint  ;  what  was  attention,  is  now /ear.  The  republic  has 
become  booty,  and  its  strength  is  no  longer  anything  moi'e  than  the 
power  of  a  few  and  the  license  of  all." 

In  the  republics  of  Athens  and  Rome,  as  long  as  they  Avere 
prosperous  and  great,  the  empire  of  the  laws  was  admirable. 
Socrates,  in  his  prison,  gave  of  this  a  sublime  example.     He 


DUTIES   TOWARD   THE    STATE.  14? 

was  unjustly  condemned  by  his  fellow-citizens  to  drink  the 
hemlock,  namely,  to  die  by  poison.  Meanwhile,  his  friends 
pressed  him  to  resort  to  flight ;  and  everything  leads  to  the 
belief  that  tliis  would  have  been  quite  easy,  as  the  judges 
themselves  almost  wished  to  be  relieved  of  the  responsibility 
of  his  death.  Yet  Socrates  resisted,  and  refused  to  employ 
this  means  of  safety.  The  principal  reason  given  by  him  was, 
that,  having  been  condemned  by  the  laws  of  his  country,  he 
could  save  himself  only  by  violating  these  laws. 

This  is  what  Plato  has  expressed  in  the  dialogue  entitled 
Crito.  The  laws  of  the  country  are  represented  as  addressing 
a  speech  to  Socrates ;  it  is  called  the  Prosopopoeia*  of  Crito  : 

" Socrates,"  they  will  say  to  me,  "was  that  our  agreement,  or  was  it 
not  rather  that  thou  shouldst  submit  to  the  judgments  rendered  by  the 
republic  ?  .  .  .  What  cause  of  complaint  hast  thou  against  us  that  thou 
shouldst  try  to  destroy  us  ?  Dost  thou  not,  in  the  firrt  pUice,  owe  us  thy 
life  ?  Was  it  not  under  our  auspices  that  thy  father  took  to  himself  the 
companion  that  gave  thee  birth?  If  thou  owest  us  thy  birth  and  edu- 
cation, canst  thou  deny  that  thou  art  our  child  and  servant  ?  And  if 
this  be  so,  thinkest  thou  thy  rights  equal  to  ours  ;  and  that  thou  art 
permitted  to  make  us  suffer  for  what  we  make  thee  suffer  ?  What !  in  the 
case  of  a  father  or  a  master,  if  thou  hadst  one,  thou  wouldst  not  have 
the  right  to  do  to  him  what  he  would  do  to  thee  ;  to  speak  to  him  in- 
sultingly if  he  insulted  thee  ;  to  strike  him,  if  he  struck  thee,  nor  any- 
thing like  it ;  and  thou  shouldst  hold  such  a  right  toward  thy  country  ! 
and  if  we  had  sentenced  thee  to  death,  thinking  the  sentence  just,  thou 
shouldst  undertake  to  destroy  us  !  .  .  .  Does  not  thy  wisdom  teach 
thee  that  the  country  has  a  greater  right  to  thy  respect  and  homage, 
that  it  is  more  august  and  more  wise  before  the  gods  and  the  sages,  than 
father,  mother,  and  all  ancestors  ;  that  the  country  in  its  anger  nmst 
be  respected,  that  one  must  convince  it  of  its  error  through  persuasion, 
or  obey  its  commands,  sufier  without  miu'inuring  whatever  it  orders  to 
be  suffered,  even  to  be  beaten  and  loaded  with  chains  ?  .  .  .  What  else 
then  dost  thou  do?"  they  would  proceed  to  say,  "than  violate  the 
treaty  that  binds  thee  to  us,  and  trample  under  foot  thy  agreement  ? 

*  Prosopopoeia  in  rhetoric  Is  the  form  of  expression  which  consists  in  animating 
physical  or  abstract  things,  in  lending  them  "a  soul,  a  mind,  a  visage"  (Boileau), 
in  making  them  speak  or  being  spoken  to  as  if  they  were  present  and  living.  In 
Crito,  the  laws  are  personified,  and  it  is  they  that  speak. 


148  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

...  In  suffering  thy  sentence,  thou  diest  an  honorable  victim  of  the 
iniquity,  not  of  the  laws,  but  of  men  ;  but  if  thou  takest  to  flight,  thou 
repellest  unworthily  injustice  by  injustice,  evdl  by  evil,  and  thou  vio- 
latest  the  treaty  whereby  thou  vvert  under  obligation  to  us  :  thou  im- 
perilest  those  it  was  thy  duty  to  protect,  thou  imperilest  thyself,  thy 
friends,  thy  country,  and  us.  We  shall  be  thy  enemies  all  thy  life  ; 
and  when  thou  shalt  descend  to  the  dead,  our  sisters,  the  laws  of  Hades, 
knowing  that  thou  hast  tried  thy  best  to  destroy  us  here,  will  not  re- 
ceive thcc  very  favorably.'' 

Pretended  Exceptions. — The  duty  of  obedience  to  the  laws 
must  then  be  admitted  as  a  principle ;  but  is  this  duty  abso- 
lute 1  is  it  not  susceptible  of  some  exceptions  ?  A  learned 
theologian  of  the  XVI.  century,  a  Jesuit,  iSuarez  ( Traite  des 
lois,  III.,  iv.),  admits  three  exceptions  to  the  obedience  due  to 
the  law  :  1,  if  a  law  is  unjust — for  an  unjust  law  is  no  law — 
not  only  is  one  not  obliged  to  accept,  but  oven,  when  accepted, 
one  is  not  obliged  to  obey  it ;  2,  if  it  is  too  hard ;  for  then 
one  may  reasonably  presume  that  the  law  was  not  made  by 
the  prince  with  the  absolute  intention  that  it  should  be 
obeyed,  but  rather  as  an  experiment ;  now,  under  this  suji- 
position  one  can  always  begin  by  not  observing  it ; — 3,  if,  in 
fact,  the  majority  of  the  people  have  ceased  to  observe  it, 
even  though  the  first  who  had  commenced  should  have  sinned  ; 
the  minority  is  not  obliged  to  observe  what  the  majority  has 
abandoned :  for  one  cannot  suppose  the  prince  to  intend 
obliging  such  or  such  individuals  to  observe  it,  when  the  com- 
munity at  large  have  ceased  observing  it. 

These  exceptions,  proposed  by  Suarez,  are  inadmissible,  at 
least  the  two  first.  To  authorize  disobedience  to  unjust  laws 
is  introducing  into  society  an  inward  principle  of  destruction. 
All  law  is  supposed  to  be  just,  otherwise  it  is  arlntrariness  and 
not  law.  Every  man  finds  always  the  law  that  punishes  him 
unjust.  If  there  are  unjust  laws,  which  is  possible,  we  must 
ask  their  abrogation  ;  and,  in  these  our  days,  the  liberty  of 
the  press  is  ready  to  give  satisfaction  to  the  need  of  criticism  ; 
-but,  in  the  meantime,  we  must  obey.  The  second  exception 
is  not  tenable  either.     To  say  that  it  is  permitted  to  disobey 


DUTIES   OF    CHARITY    AND    SELF-SACRIFICE.  149 

a  law  when  it  is  too  hard,  in  supposing  that  the  prince  only 
made  it  for  an  experiment,  is  to  permit  the  ehiding  of  all 
the  laws :  for  every  law  is  hard  for  somebody ;  and  there  is, 
besides,  no  determining  the  hardness  of  laws.  Such  an  ap- 
preciation is,  moreover,  fictitious ;  a  prince  who  makes  a  law 
is  supposed  a  priori  to  wish  it  executed  :  to  say  that  he  only 
meant  to  try  lis  therewith  is  a  wholly  gratuitous  invention. 
Certainly  one  may  by  such  conduct  succeed  in  wearing  a  law 
out  when  the  prince  is  feeble;  but  it  is  not  the  less  unjust, 
and  no  State  could  resist  such  a  cause  of  dissolution.  As  to 
the  third  exception,  it  can  be  admitted  that  there  are  laws 
fallen  into  disuse,  and  which  are  no  longer  applied  by  any  one 
because  they  stand  in  contradiction  to  the  manners,  and  are 
no  longer  of  any  use ;  but,  except  in  such  case,  it  is  nowise  per- 
mitted to  say  that  it  is  sufficient  for  the  majority  to  disobey 
to  entitle  the  minority  to  do  the  same.  For  instance,  if  it 
pleased  thq  majority  to  engage  in  smuggling,  or  to  make  false 
declarations  in  the  matter  of  taxes,  it  would  nowise  acquit  the 
good  citizens  from  continuing  to  fulfill  their  duty. 

Now,  if  it  is  an  absolute  duty  to  obey  a  law,  we  must,  at 
the  same  time,  admit  as  a  corrective,  the  right  of  criticising 
the  law.  This  right  is  tlie  right  of  the  minority,  and  it  is 
recognized  to-day  in  all  civilized  countries.  A  law  may,  in 
fact,  be  unjust  or  erroneous  :  it  may  have  been  introduced  by 
passion,  by  party-spirit ;  even  without  having  been  originally 
unjust,  it  may  have  become  so  in  time  through  change  in 
manners;  it  may  also  be  the  work  of  ignorance,  prejudice,  etc.; 
and  thereby  hurtful.  Hence  the  necessity  of  what  is  called 
the  liherty  of  the  press,  the  inviolable  guaranty  of  the  minori- 
ties. But  the  right  of  criticising  the  laAv  is  not  the  right  of 
insulting  it.  Discussion  is  not  insult.  Every  law  is  entitled 
to  respect  because  it  is  a  law;  it  is  the  expression  of  the 
public  reason,  the  public  will,  of  sovereignty.  One  may  try 
to  pei'suade  the  sovereign  by  reasoning,  and  induce  him  to 
change  the  law ;  one  should  not  inspire  contempt  which  leads 
unavoidably  to  disobedience. 


150  ELEME^'TS   OF   MOUALS. 

87.  Respect  for  magistrates. — Another  duty,  which  is 
the  corollary  to  obedience  to  llie  laws,  is  the  respect  for  the 
magistrate.  The  magistrate — that  is,  the  functionary,  whoever 
he  be,  in  charge  of  the  execution  of  the  laws — should  be  obeyed, 
not  only  because  he  represents  force,  but  also  because  he  is  the 
expression  of  the  law.  For  this  reason,  he  should  be  for  all 
an  object  of  respect.  The  person  is  nothing ;  it  is  the 
authority  itself  that  is  entitled  to  respect,  and  not  such  or 
such  an  individual.  Many  ignorant  persons  are  always  dis- 
posed to  regard  the  functionary  as  a  tyrant,  and  every  act  of 
authority,  an  act  of  oppression.  This  is  a  puerile  and  lament- 
able prejudice.  The  greatest,  oppression  is  ahvays  that  of  in- 
dividual passions,  and  the  most  dangerous  of  despotisms  is  an- 
archy :  for  then  it  is  the  right  of  the  strongest  which  alone 
predominates.  Authority,  whatever  it  be,  makes  the  mainten- 
ance of  order  its  special  interest,  and  order  is  the  guaranty  of 
every  one.  The  magistrate  is,  moreover,  entitled  to  respect,  as 
he  represents  the  country ;  if  the  country  be  a  family,  the 
authority  of  the  magistrate  should  be  regarded  tlie  same  as 
that  of  the  head  of  the  family,  an  authority  entitled  to  respect 
even  in  its  errors. 

88.  The  ballot. — Of  all  the  special  obligations  which  Ave 
have  enumerated,  the  most  important  to  point  out  is  that  of  the 
ballot,  because  it  is  free  and  left  entirely  at  the  will  of  the  citizens. 

In  regard  to  the  other  obligations,  constraint  may,  up  to  a 
certain  point,  supply  the  good  will ;  he  who  does  not  pay  his 
taxes  from  a  sense  of  duty,  is  obliged  to  pay  them  from  neces- 
sity ;  but  the  ballot  is  free ;  one  may  vote  or  not  vote  ;  one  may 
vote  for  Avhoni  he  pleases :  there  is  no  other  restraint  than 
the  sense  of  duty ;  for  this  reason,  it  is  necessary  to  insist  on 
this  kind  of  obligation. 

1.  It  is  a  duty  to  vote.  AVhat  in  fact  the  law  demands,  in 
granting  to  the  citizens  the  right  of  suffrage,  is  that  the  will 
of  the  citizens  be  made  manifest,  and  that  the  decisions  about 
to  be  taken,  be  those  of  the  majority.  This  principle  of  the 
right  of  the  majorities  has  often  been  (lucstioned  :  for,  it  is 


DUTIES  OF    CHARITY  AKD    SELF-SACEIFICE.         151 

said,  v\"liy  might  not  tlie  majority  be  mistaken?  Certainly,  but 
why  might  not  the  minority  be  also  mistaken  1  The  majority 
is  a  rule  -which  puts  an  end  to  disputes  and  forestalls  the 
appeal  to  force.  The  minorities  certainly  may  have  cause  for 
complaint,  for  no  rule  is  absolutely  perfect ;  but  they  have  the 
chance  of  becoming  majorities  in  their  turn.  This  is  seen  in 
all  free  States,  where  the  majority  is  constantly  being  modified 
with  the  time.  If  such  is  the  principle  of  elective  governments 
(whatever  be  the  measure  or  extension  of  the  electoral  right), 
it  can  be  seen  of  what  importance  it  is  that  the  true  majority 
show  itself ;  and  this  can  only  take  place  through  the  greatest 
possible  number  of  voters.  If,  for  example,  half  of  the  citi- 
zens abstain,  and  that  of  the  half  that  vote,  one-half  alone, 
plus  one,  constitute  the  majority,  it  follows  that  it  is  a  fourth 
of  the  citizens  that  make  the  law ;  which  would  seem  to  be 
reversing  the  principle  of  majorities.  This  is  certainly  not 
absolutely  unjust,  for  it  may  be  said  that  those  who  do  not 
vote  admit  implicitly  the  result  obtained ;  but  this  negative 
compliance  has  not  the  same  value  as  a  positive  compliance. 

To  abstain  from  voting  may  have  two  causes  :  either  indif- 
ference, or  ignorance  of  the  questions  propounded,  and  conse- 
quently the  impossibility  of  deciding  one  way  or  another.  In 
the  first  case,  especially  is  the  abstaining  culpable.  No  citi- 
zen has  the  right  to  be  indifferent  to  public  affairs.  Skepti- 
cism in  this  matter  is  want  of  patriotism.  In  the  second  case, 
the  C[uestion  is  a  more  delicate  one.  How  can  1  vote  ?  it  may 
be  said.  I  understand  nothing  about  the  question ;  I  have 
no  opinion  ;  I  have  no  preference  as  to  candidates.  To  com- 
bat this  evil,  it  is,  of  course,  necessary  that  education  gain  a 
larger  development,  and  that  liberty  enter  into  customs  and 
manners.  There  will  be  seen  then  a  greater  and  greater  num- 
ber of  citizens  understandingly  interested  in  public  affiiirs. 
But  even  in  the  present  state  of  things,  a  man  may  still  fulfill 
his  duty  in  consulting  enlightened  men,  in  choosing  some  one 
in  whom  he  may  have  confidence ;  in  short,  in  making  every 
cffoi't  to  gain  information. 


152  ELEMENTS  OF  MORALS. 

2.  Tlie  vote  should  be  disinterested.  The  question  here  ia 
not  only  one  concerning  the  venality  of  the  vote,  which  is  a 
shameful  act,  punishable,  moreover,  1)y  the  laws ;  but  it  em- 
braces disinterestedness  in  a  wider  sense.  One  should  in 
voting  consider  the  interests  of  the  country  alone,  and  in 
nowise,  or  at  least,  only  secondarily,  the  interests  of  localities, 
unless  the  question  be  precisely  as  to  those  latter  interests, 
when  voting  for  municipal  officers. 

3.  The  vote  should  be  free.  The  electors  or  representatives 
of  an  assembly  should  obey  their  conscience  alone  :  they  should 
repel  all  pressure,  as  well  that  from  committees  arrogating 
omnipotence,  as  from  the  power  itself. 

4.  In  fine,  the  vote  shoidd  be  enlightened.  Each  voter  should 
gather  information  touching  the  matter  in  hand,  the  candi- 
dates, their  morality,  their  general  fitness  for  their  duty,  their 
opinions.  In  order  to  vote  with  knowledge  of  the  facts,  one 
must  have  some  education.  That,  of  course,  depends  on  our 
parents ;  but  Avhat  depends  on  us,  is  to  develop  the  education 
already  obtained ;  we  must  read  the  papers,  but  not  one 
only,  or  we  may  become  the  slaves  of  a  watch- word  and  of 
bigoted  minds ;  we  must  also  gather  information  from  inen 
more  enlightened,  etc. 

89.  Taxes. — It  is  a  duty  to  pay  the  taxes  ;  for,  without  the 
contributions  of  each  citizen,  the  State  would  have  no  budget, 
and  could  not  set  the  offices  it  is  commissioned  with,  tu  work. 

How  could  justice  be  rendered,  instruction  be  given,  the 
territory  be  defended,  the  roads  kept  up,  without  money? 
This  money,  besides,  is  voted  by  the  representatives  of  the 
country,  elected  for  that  purpose.  But  if  the  State  is  not  to 
tax  the  citizens  without  their  consent  and  supervision,  they  in 
their  turn  should  not  refuse  it  their  money.  Certainly,  this 
evil  is  not  much  to  be  feared,  for  in  the  absence  of  good  will, 
there  is  still  the  constraint  which  can  be  brought  to  bear  iipon 
refractory  citizens.  Yet  there  are  still  means  of  defrauding 
the  law.  The  common  people  believe  too  readily  that  to 
deceive  the  State  is  not  deceiving  ;  tliey  do  not  scruple  to 


DUTIES   OF   CHAEITT  AND   SELF-SACRIFICE.         153 

make  false  declarations  where  declarations  are  irequired,  to 
pass  prohibited  goods  over  the  frontier,  etc.;  which  are  so 
many  ways  of  refusing  to  pay  the  taxes. 

90.  Military  service,  as  are  the  taxes,  is  obligatory  by 
law,  and  consequently  does  not  depend  on  individual  choice. 
But  it  is  not  enough  to  do  our  duty  because  Ave  are  obliged 
to  do  it ;  we  must  also  do  it  conscientiously  and  heartily. 

"  It  is  not  enough  to  pay  out  of  one's  purse,"  says  a  moralist ;  *  "one 
must  also  pay  with  one's  person."  Certainly,  it  is  not  for  anyone's 
pleasure  that  he  leaves  his  parents  and  friends,  his  Avork  and  habits,  to 
go  to  do  military  service  in  barracks,  and,  if  needs  be,  to  fight  on  the 
frontiers.  But  who  will  defend  the  country  in  case  of  attack  if  it  be 
not  its  young  and  robust  men  ?  And  must  they  not  learn  the  use  of 
arms  in  order  to  be  eflicient  on  the  day  when  the  country  shall  need 
them  ?  This  is  why  there  are  armies.  Certainly,  it  would  he  a  thou- 
sand times  better  if  there  were  no  need  of  this,  if  all  nations  were  just 
enough  never  to  make  war  with  each  other.  But  whilst  this  ideal  is  being 
realized,  the  least  any  one  can  do  is  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  to  de- 
fend his  liberty,  his  honor.  .  .  .  Thanks  to  a  good  army,  one  not  only 
can  remain  quiet  at  home,  but  the  humblest  citizen  is  respected  wher- 
ever he  goes,  wherever  his  interests  take  him.  In  looking  carefully  at 
the  matter  it  can  be  seen  that  even  in  respect  to  simple  interests,  the 
time  spent  in  the  service  of  the  flag,  is  nothing  in  comparison  A\-ith  the 
advantages  derived  from  it.  Is  it  not  because  others  have  been  there 
before  us  that  we  have  been  enabled  to  grow  up  peacefully  and  happy  to 
the  age  of  manhood  ?  Is  it  not  just  that  we  should  take  their  jjlace  and 
in  our  turn  watch  over  the  country  ?  And  when  we  return,  others  will 
take  our  place,  and  we,  in  our  turn,  shall  bo  enabled  to  raise  a  family, 
attend  to  our  business,  and  lead  a  quiet  and  contented  life. 

Let  IIS  add  to  these  judicious  remarks  that  military  service 
is  a  school  of  discipline,  order,  obedience,  courage,  patience, 
and  as  such,  contributes  to  strengthening  the  mind  and  body, 
to  developing  personality,  to  forming  good  citizens. 

The  principal  infractions  of  the  duty  of  military  service  are  : 
1,  mutilations  by  which  some  render  tliemselves  improper  for 
service ;  2,  simulated  infirmities  by  whicli  one  tries  to  escape 
from  the  obligation  ;  3,  desertion  in  times  of  Avar,  and  A\'hat 

^  Droits  d  dcvoin  dc  I'hommc,  Henri  Marion,  Paris,  ISSO,  i>.  67. 


154  ELEMENTS    OF    MOEALS. 

is  more  criminal  still,  j)<:(!^^i'i{/ over  to  the  eiiemy ;  4,  insuhor- 
dination  or  disobedience  to  superiors. 

This  latter  vice  is  the  most  important  to  point  out,  the 
others  being  more  or  less  rare ;  but  insubordination  is  au  evil 
most  frequent  in  our  armies,  and  a  most  dangerous  evil.  Mil- 
itary operations  have  become  so  complicated  and  difficult  in 
these  days,  that  nothing  is  possible  without  the  strictest 
obedience  on  the  part  of  soldiers.  In  times  when  individual 
valor  was  almost  everything,  insubordination  might  have  pre- 
sented fewer  inconveniences ;  but  in  these  days,  all  is  done 
tlu'ough  masses,  and  if  the  men  do  not  obey,  the  armies  are 
necessarily  beaten  because  they  cannot  oppose  an  equal  force 
to  the  enemy.  Suppose  the  enemy  to  lie  50,000  men  strong 
in  a  certain  place,  that  you  yourself  belong  to  a  body  of 
50,000,  and  that  you  all  together  reach  the  same  place  at  the 
same  time  as  the  enemy :  you  are  equal  in  numbers,  one 
against  one,  and  you  have  at  least  as  many  chances  as  they; 
and  if,  besides,  you  have  other  qualities  which  they  have  not, 
you  will  have  more  chances.  But  if  in  the  corps  you  belong 
to,  there  is  no  discipline,  if  every  one  disobeys — if,  for  example, 
when  the  order  for  marching  is  given,  each  starts  when  he 
pleases,  and  marches  but  as  he  pleases,  you  will  arrive  too  late, 
and  the  enemy  will  have  taken  the  best  positions  ;  there  is 
then  one  chance  lost.  If,  moreover,  through  the  disorder  in 
your  ranks,  you  do  not  all  arrive  together,  if  there  are  but 
25,000  men  in  a  line,  the  others  remaining  behind,  these 
25,000  will  be  overwhelmed.  As  for  those  who  do  not  reach 
the  spot,  think  you  they  will  escape  the  consequences  of  the 
battle  ?  By  no  means ;  the  disorder  wiU  not  save  them  ;  it 
will  deliver  them  defenseless  into  the  hands  of  the  pursuing 
enemy.  Now,  all  disorder  is  followed  by  similar  consequences. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  obedience  of  the  soldier  being  sure, 
the  army  is  as  one  man  who  lends  himself  to  all  the  plans,  all 
the  combinations ;  who  takes  advantage  of  all  the  happy 
chances,  who  runs  less  dangers  because  the  business  proceeds 
iiKjre  rapidly,  and  that  with  less  means  one  obtains  more  re- 


DUTIES   OF   CHARITY    AXD   SELF-SACRIFICE.         155 

suits.  Such  are  the  reasons  for  the  punctilious  disci})line 
required  of  soldiers.  We  are  treated  as  machines,  you  will 
say.  Yes ;  if  you  resist :  for  then  constraint  becomes  indis- 
pensable ;  but  if  you  understand  the  necessity  of  the  disci- 
pline, if  you  submit  to  it  on  your  own  accord,  then  are  you  no 
longer  machines  :  you  are  men.  The  < mly  Avay  of  not  being  a 
macliine  is  then  ]>recisely  to  oljcy  freely. 

It  has  often  been  asked,  in  these  days,  whether  the  soldier 
is  always  obliged  to  obey,  even  such  orders  as  his  conscience 
disapproves  of.  These  are  dangerous  questions  to  raise,  and 
they  tend  to  imperil  discipline  without  much  profit  to  morality. 
Ko  doubt  if  a  soldier  were  ordered  to  commit  a  crime — as,  for 
example,  to  go  and  kill  a  defenseless  man — he  would  have  the 
right  to  refuse  doing  it.  At  the  time  of  the  massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew,  an  order  was  sent  to  all  the  provinces  to  follow 
the  example  of  Paris.  One  of  the  governors,  the  Viscount 
Orthez,  replied  that  his  soldiers  did  not  do  executioner's  ser- 
vice ;  and  this  answer  was  admired  by  all  the  world.  But 
these  are  very  rare  cases ;  and  it  is  dangerous  for  such  uncer- 
tain eventualities  to  inspire  mistrust  against  order  and  disci- 
pline, which  are  the  certain  guaranties  of  the  defense  and  inde- 
pendence of  a  coTmtry. 

91.  Educational  obligation. — The  duty  to  instruct  children 
results  from  the  natural  relations  between  parents  and  children. 
The  obligation  to  mise  children  implies,  in  fact,  the  obligation 
to  instruct  them.  There  is  no  more  education  without  instruc- 
tion than  instruction  without  education.  To-day  educational 
obligation  is  inserted  in  the  law,  and  has  its  sanction  therein. 
But  parents  owe  it  to  themselves  to  obey  the  law  without 
constraint. 

92.  Civil  courage. — We  have  already  spoken  above  of 
civil  courage  as  op})osed  to  military  courage.  But  here  is  the 
place  to  return  to  this  subject.  Let  us  recall  a  fine  page  by 
J.  Barni  in  his  book  on  Morality  in  Democracy  : 

The  stoics  defined  courage  admirably  :  Virtue  combating  for  equity. 
Ci\dl  courage  miglit  be  defined  :  virtue  defending  the  liberty  and  rights 


156  ELEMENTS   OF   MOEALS. 

of  citizens  against  tyranny,  whether  this  tyranny  be  that  of  the  masses 
or  a  despot's.  As  much  courage,  and  perhaps  more,  is  demanded  in  the 
first  case  as  in  the  second  ;  it  is  less  easy  to  resist  a  crowd  than  a  single 
man,  were  there  nothing  more  to  be  feared  than  unpo]Jularity,  one  of 
the  disadvantages  hardest  to  brave.  How  much  more  difficult  when  it 
comes  to  risking  a  popularity  already  acquired  ?  Yet  must  one,  if  neces- 
sary, be  able  to  make  the  sacriiice.  True  civil  courage  shows  itself  the 
same  in  all  cases.  Thus,  Socrates,  this  type  of  civil  virtue,  as  he  was 
of  all  other  virtues,  refused,  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  to  obey  the  iniqui- 
tous orders  of  the  tyrant  Critias  ;  and  he  resisted  with  no  less  courage 
the  people,  Avho,  contrary  to  justice  and  law,  asked  for  the  deatli  of  the 
generals  who  conquered  at  Arginus?e.  Another  name  presents  itself  to 
the  memory,  namely,  that  of  Boissy  d'Anglas,  immortalized  for  the 
heroism  he  showed  as  president  of  the  National  Convention,  the  1st 
Prairial,  year  II.  (20  May,  1795).  Assailed  by  the  clamors  of  the  crowd 
which  had  invaded  the  Assembly,  threatened  by  the  guns  which  were 
pointed  at  him,  he  remains  impassible  ;  and  withoiit  even  appearing  to 
be  aware  of  the  danger  he  is  running,  he  reminds  the  crowd  of  the  re- 
spect due  to  national  representatives.  They  cry  :  ' '  We  do  not  want 
thy  Assembly ;  the  people  is  here  ;  thou  art  the  president  of  the  people  ; 
sign,  says  one,  the  decree  shall  be  good,  or  I  kill  thee  ! "  He  quietly 
replied  :  ' '  Life  to  me  is  a  trifle  ;  you  speak  of  committing  a  great  crime  ; 
I  am  a  representative  of  the  people  ;  I  am  president  of  the  convention ; " 
and  he  refused  to  sign.  The  head  of  a  representative  of  the  people  who 
had  just  been  massacred  by  the  popiilace  for  having  attempted  to  pre- 
vent the  invasion  of  the  Convention,  is  presented  to  him  on  the  end  of 
a  pike  ;  he  salutes  it  and  remains  firm  at  his  post.  This  is  a  great  ex- 
ample of  civil  courage. 


CHAPTER    VIIT. 


PEOPESSIONAL      DUTIES, 


SUMMARY. 

Professional  duties:  fomulcd  on  the  division  of  social  work. 

The  absence  of  a  profession — Leisure. — Is  it  a  duty  to  have  a  pro- 
fession ?     Rules  for  the  choice  of  a  profession. 

Division  of  social  professions. — Plato's  theory  ;  the  Saint  Simonian 
theory  ;  Fichte's  theory.     Resume  and  .synthesis  of  these  theories. 

iVlechanic  and  industrial  professions. — Employers  and  employees. — 
Workmen  and  farmers. 

iVIilitary  duties. 

Public  functions. — Elective  functions  ;  the  magistracy  and  the  bar. 

Science. — Teaching. — Medicine. — The  arts  and  letters.  , 

93.  Division  of  social  work. — Independently  of  the  gen- 
eral duties  to  which  man  is  held,  as  man  or  member  of  a  par- 
ticular group  (family,  country),  there  are  still  others  relating 
to  the  situation  he  holds  in  society,  to  the  part  he  plays 
therein,  to  his  particular  kine  of  "vvork.  Society  is,  in  fact,  a 
sort  of  great  enterprise  where  all  pursue  a  common  end, 
namely,  the  greatest  happiness  or  the  greatest  morality  of  the 
human  species ;  but  as  tliis  end  is  very  complex,  it  is  neces- 
sary that  the  parts  to  be  played  toward  reaching  it  be  divided  ; 
and,  as  in  industrial  pursuits,  iinity  of  purpose,  rapidity  of 
execution,  perfection  of  work,  cannot  be  obtained  except  by 
division  of  labor,  so  is  there  also  in  society  a  sort  of  social 
iJimsion  of  lahor,  which  allots  to  each  his  share  of  the  com- 
mon work.     The  special  work  each  is  appointed  to  accompli.sh 


158  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

in  society  is  what  is  called  a  profession,  and  the  peculiar  duties 
of  each  profession  are    the  professional  duties. 

94.  The  absence  of  a  profession — Leisure. — The  first 
question  to  be  considered  is,  whether  a  man  should  have  a 
profession,  or  if,  having  received  from  his  family  a  sufficient 
fortime  to  live  without  doing  anything,  he  has  a  right  to  dis- 
pense with  all  profession  and  give  himself  up  to  what  is  called 
leisure.  Some  schools  have  condemned  leisure  absolutely, 
have  denounced  what  they  call  idlers  as  the  enemies  of  society. 
This  is  a  rather  delicate  question,  and  concerning  which  one 
must  guard  against  arriving  at  a  too  absolute  conclusion. 

And,  in  the  first  place,  there  cannot  be  question  here  of  approving 
or  permitting  that  sort  of  foolish  and  shameful  leisure  to  which  some 
young  prodigals,  without  sense  of  dignity  and  morality,  are  given,  who 
dissipate  iu  disorder  hereditary  fortunes,  or  the  wealth  obtained  by  the 
indefatigable  labor  of  their  fathers.  It  is  sometimes  said  that  this  does 
more  good  than  harm,  because  fortiines  pass  thus  from  hand  to  hand, 
and  each  profits  by  it  in  his  turn.  But  who  does  not  know  that  to  make 
a  good  use  of  a  fortune  is  more  profitable  to  society  than  dissipation  ? 
However  that  may  be,  nothing  is  more  unworthy  of  youth  than  this 
nameless  idleness,  where  all  the  strength  of  the  body  and  soul,  the 
energy  of  character,  the  life  of  the  intelligence,  all  the  gifts  of  nature 
are  squandered.  There  have  been  sometimes  seen  superior  souls  who 
rose  from  such  disorders  victorious  over  themselves,  and  stronger  for 
the  combat  of  life.  But  how  rare  STich  examples  !  How  often  does  it 
not,  on  the  contrary,  happen  that  the  idleness  of  his  youth  determines 
the  whole  course  of  the  man's  life  1 

Sometimes,  it  is  true,  one  may  choose  a  life  of  leisure  designedly,  not 
with  an  idea  of  dissipation,  but,  on  the  contrary,  with  that  of  being  free 
to  do  gi'eat  things.  Certain  independent  minds  believe  that  a  profes- 
sion deprives  a  person  of  his  liberty,  narrows  him,  fastens  him  do^-n  to 
mean  and  monotonous  occupations,  sul)jects  him  to  conventional  and 
narrow  modes  of  thinking — in  short,  that  a  positive  kind  of  work  weak- 
ens and  lowers  the  mind.  There  is  some  truth  in  these  remarks.  Every- 
body has  observed  how  men  of  diff"erent  professions  differ  in  their  mode 
of  thinking.  What  more  different  than  a  physician,  a  man  of  letters, 
a  soldier,  a  merchant  ?  All  these  men  thought  about  the  same  in  their 
youth  ;  they  see  each  other  twenty  years  later  ;  each  has  undergone  a 
peculiar  bent ;  each  has  his  particular  physiognomy,  costume,  etc.  Not 
only  has  the  profession  absorbed  the  man,  but  it  has  also  deadened  his 


PROFESSIOXAL   DUTIES.  159 

iudividuality.  One  may  conceive,  then,  how  some  ambitious  minds 
may  expect  to  escape  the  yoke  and  preserve  their  liberty  in  renouncing 
all  professions.  To  be  subject  to  no  fixed  and  prescribed  occupation, 
to  depend  upon  no  master,  to  nobly  cultivate  the  mind  in  every  direc- 
tion, to  make  vast  experiments,  to  be  a  stranger  to  nothing,  bound  to 
notliing,  is  not  that,  seemingly,  the  height  of  human  happiness  ?  Some 
men  of  genius  have  followed  this  SN'stem,  and  found  no  bad  results  from 
it.  Descartes  relates  to  us  in  his  Discours  siir  la  Mcthodc  (Part  I.),  that, 
during  nine  years  of  his  life,  he  did  nothing  but  "roll  about  the  world, 
hither  and  thither,  trying  to  be  a  spectator,  rather  than  an  actor,  in  the 
comedies  played  therein."  He  tells  us  further,  that  he  employed  his 
"youth  in  traveling,  in  visiting  courts  and  armies,  in  associating  with 
X)eople  of  various  humors  and  conditions,  in  gathering  divers  experi- 
ences, in  testing  himself  in  the  encounters  chance  favored  him  with, 
etc."  That  this  may  be  an  admirable  school,  a  marvelously  instructive 
arena  for  well-endowed  minds,  no  one  will  doubt ;  but  what  is  possible 
and  useful  to  a  Descartes  or  a  Pascal,  will  it  suit  the  majority  of  men  ? 
Is  it  not  to  be  feared  that  this  wandering  in  ever}'  direction,  this  habit 
of  liaving  nowhere  a  foot-hold,  may  make  the  mind  superficial  and 
weaken  its  energy  ? 

He  who  renounces  being  an  actor,  to  be  only  a  spectator,  as  did  Des- 
cartes, takes  too  easy  a  part ;  he  frees  himself  from  all  responsibility  : 
this  may  sharpen  the  mind,  but  there  will  alwaj's  remain  some  radical 
deficiency.  Force  of  character,  however,  and  personal  sujieriority  may 
set  at  naught  all  these  conclusions — sound  as  they  in  general  are  in 
theory.  * 

It  may,  therefore,  be  doubtful  whether  a  life  of  leisure, 
■with  some  exceptions,  be  good,  for  him  who  gives  himself  up 
to  it ;  but  what  is  not  legitimate,  is  the  kind  of  jealousy  and 
envy  which  those  who  work  often  entertain  against  those  who 
have  nothing  to  do.  There  is  a  legitimate  leisure  and  nobly 
employed.  For  example,  a  legitimate  leisure  is  that  which, 
obtained  through  hereditary  fortune,  is  engaged  in  gratuitously 
serving  the  country,  in  study,  in  the  management  of  property, 
the  cultivation  of  land,  in  travels  devoted  to  observation  and 
the  amelioration  of  human  things,  in  a  noble  intercourse  with 
society.  It  is  a  grievous  error  to  wish  to  blot  out  of  societies 
all  existence  that  has  not  gain  for  its  end,  and  is  not  connected 

*  The  preceding  quotation  is  from  our  Philosophic  du  bonheur. 


160  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

with  daily  wants.  Property  and  riches  are  true  social  func- 
tions, and  among  the  most  difficult  of  functions.  Those  who 
know  how  to  use  them  with  profit,  fill  one  of  the  most  useful 
parts  in  society,  andr  cannot  be  said  to  be  without  a  profession. 

95.  Of  the  choice  of  a  profession. — If  it  is  necessary  in 
society  to  have  a  })rofession,  it  is  important  that  it  be  well 
chosen.  He  who  is  not  in  his  right  place,  is  wanting  in  some 
essential  quality  to  till  the  one  he  occupies : 

' '  If  the  abbe  cle  Carignan  had  yielded  to  the  wishes  of  Madame  de 
Soissons,  his  mother,  what  glory  would  not  the  house  of  Savoy  have 
been  deprived  of !  The  empire  would  have  been  deprived  of  one  of  its 
greatest  captains,  one  of  the  bulwarks  of  Christianity.  Prince  Eugene 
was  a  very  great  man  in  the  profession  they  wished  to  interdict  him  ; 
what  would  he  have  been  in  the  profession  they  wished  him  to  em- 
brace ?  M.  de  Ketz  insisted  absolutely  that  his  youngest  son  should  be 
an  ecclesiastic,  despite  the  repugnance  he  manifested  for  this  profession, 
despite  the  scandalous  conduct  he  indulged  in  to  escape  from  it.  This 
duke  [M.  de  Retz]  gives  to  the  church  a  sacrilegious  priest,  to  Paris  a 
sanguinary  archbishop,  to  the  kingdom  a  great  rebel,  and  deprives  his 
house  of  the  last  prop  that  could  have  sustained  it. "  * 

One  should,  therefore,  study  his  vocation,  not  decide  too 
quickly,  get  information  on  the  nature  and  duties  of  different 
professions  ;  then  consult  his  taste,  but  without  allowing  him- 
self to  be  carried  away  by  illusory,  proud,  inconsistent  fancies  ; 
consult  wise  and  enlightened  persons;  finally,  if  necessary, 
make  certain  experiments,  taking  care,  however,  to  stop  in  time. 

96.  Division  of  social  professions. — It  would  be  impos- 
sible to  make  a  survey  of  all  the  professions  society  is  com- 
posed of :  it  were  an  infinite  labor.  We  must,  therefore, 
bring  the  professions  down  to  a  certain  number  of  types  or 
classes,  which  allow  the  reducing  of  the  rules  oi  2')Tofessional 
moralitij  to  a  small  number.  Several  philosophers  have  busied 
themselves  in  dividing  and  classifying  social  occupations. 
We  shall  recall  only  the  principal  ones  of  these  divisions. 

Plato   has   reduced  the  different  social  functions  to  four 

*  Philosophie  sociule,  E.ssai  siir  Ics  devoii-.s  tit;  riiomiiie  et  clii  citoyen,  par  I'abbe 
Durosoi  (Paris,  178.3). 


PROFESSIONAL    DUTIES.  161 

classes,  namely:  1,  magistrates;  2,  warriors;  Z,  farmers ; 
4,  artisans.  The  two  lirst  classes  are  the  governing  classes ; 
the  two  others  are  the  classes  governed.  The  two  first 
apply  themselves  to  moral  things :  education,  science,  the 
defense  of  the  country ;  the  others  to  material  life.  .  This 
classification  of  Plato  is  somewhat  too  general  for  our  modern 
societies,  which  comprise  more  varied  and  numerous  elements : 
these  divisions,  nevertheless,  are  important,  and  should  be 
taken  account  of  in  morals. 

Since  Plato,  there  is  scarcely  any  hut  the  socialist  Saint- 
Simon  who  attempted  to  classify  the  social  careers.  He 
reduces  them  to  three  groups :  imlustrials,  artists,  and  scieji- 
tists  (savants).  The  meaning  of  this  classification  is  this  :  the 
object  of  human  labor,  according  to  Saint-Simon,  is  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  globe — that  is  to  say,  the  greatest  possible  produc- 
tion ;  but  this  is  the  object  of  productive  labor ;  it  is  what 
is  called  industry.  Now,  the  cultivation  of  nature  requires  a 
knowledge  of  nature's  laws,  namely,  science.  Science  and 
invention  are,  then,  the  two  great  branches  of  social  activity. 
According  to  Saint-Simon,  work — that  is  to  say,  industry — 
must  take  the  place  of  war ;  science,  that  of  the  laws.  Hence 
no  warriors,  no  magistrates  ;  or,  rather,  the  scientists  (savants) 
should  be  the  true  magistrates.  Science  and  industry,  how- 
ever, having  only  relation  to  material  nature,  Saint-Simon 
thought  there  was  a  part  to  be  given  to  the  moral  order,  to  the 
heautiful  or  the  good  ;  hence  a  third  class,  which  he  now  calls 
artists,  now  moralists  and  pliilosophers,  and  to  whom  a  sort  of 
religious  role  is  assigned.  It  will  bo  seen  that  this  theory  is 
absolutely  artificial  and  Utopian,  that  it  has  relation  to  an 
imaginary  system,  and  not  to  the  order  of  things  as  it  is  :  it  is 
an  ingenious  conception,  but  quite  impracticable. 

One  of  the  greatest  of  modern  moralists,  the  German  phil- 
osopher Fichte,  assigned,  in  his  Practical  Moralitij,  a  part  to 
the  doctrine  of  jji'ofessioncd  duties ;  and  he  began  by  giving  a 
theory  of  the  professions  more  complete  and  satisfactory  than- 
any  of  the  preceding  ones. 


162  ELEMENTS  OF  MORALS. 

Fichte  makes  of  the  special  professions  two  great  divisions  : 
1,  those  which  have  for  their  ohject  the  keeping  up  of  mate- 
rial Hfe  ]  2,  those  which  have  for  their  object  the  keeping  np 
of  intellectual  and  moral  life.  On  the  one  side,  mechanical 
labor  ;   on  the  other,  inteUectual  and  moral  labor. 

The  object  of  mechanical  labor  is  production,  manufacture, 
and  exchange  of  produce ;  hence  three  functions :  those  of 
producers,  manufacturers,  and  merchants. 

The  moral  and  spiritual  labor  has  also  tlirce  objects  :  1,  the 
administration  of  justice  in  the  State  ;  2,  the  theoretic  culture 
of  intelligence  ;  3,  the  moral  culture  of  the  will.  Hence  three 
classes :  1,  public  functions ;  2,  science  and  instruction  ; 
3,  the  Church  and  the  clergy.  Lastly,  there  is  in  human 
nature  a  faculty  vrhich  serves  as  a  link  between  the  theoretical 
and  the  practical  faculties  :.  it  is  the  esthetic  sense  ;  the  sense 
of  the  beautiful ;  hence  a  last  class,  that  of  artists. 

This  theory  is  more  scientific  than  that  of  the  Saint-Simo- 
nians,  but  it  is  still  somewhat  defective ;  it  is  not  clear,  for 
example,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  that  there  is  a  great  differ- 
ence of  duties  between  the  producers,  manufacturers,  and  mer- 
chants :  they  are  economical  rather  than  moral  distinctions. 
Plato's  division  is  better,  when  he  puts  the  farmers  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  artisans.  It  is  certain  that  there  are,  es- 
pecially in  these  days,  interesting  moral  questions,  which  difler 
according  as  the  Avorkmen  live  in  the  city  or  in  the  country. 
We  therefore  prefer  on  this  point  Plato's  division  ;  and  we 
will  treat,  on  the  one  side,  industry  and  commerce,  and  on  the 
other  agricidture ;  and  in  each  of  these  divisions  we  will  dis- 
tinguish those  who  direct  or  remunei-ate  the  Avork,  namely, 
contractors,  masters,  proprietors,  capitalists  in  some  degree, 
;'.nd  those  who  work  with  their  hands  and  receive  Avages. 

In  characterizing  the  second  class  of  careers,  those  which 
have  moral  interests  for  their  object,  Ave  Avill  again  borrow  of 
Plato  one  of  the  names  of  his  division,  namely,  the  defense  of 
the  State.  As  to  the  administration  of  justice  in  the  State,  it 
is  divided,  as  Ave  have  already  said,  into  three  poAvers :   the 


PROFESSIOXAL   DUTIES.  1G3 

executive,  legislative,  and  judicial  powers.  Hence  three  orders 
of  functions :  administration,  depidation,  and  the  marjistrac.y, 
with  which  latter  is  connected  the  bar. 

As  to  science,  it  is  either  sjyecidative  or  practical. 

In  the  first  case,  it  only  concerns  the  individual ;  we  have 
spoken  of  it  under  individual  duties  (ch.  iv.).  In  the  second 
case,  it  has  for  its  object  application,  and  bears  either  on 
things  or  on  men. 

Applied  to  things,  science  is  associated  with  the  industry 
we  have  already  spoken  of.  Applied  to  men,  it  is  medicine, 
in  respect  to  bodies ;  morality  or  religion,  in  respect  to  hearts 
and  souls. 

Lastly,  along  with  the  sciences  which  seek  the  true,  there 
are  the  letters  and  tlie  arts  v.-hich  treat  of  and  produce  the 
beautiful.     Hence  a  last  class,  namely,  poets,  writers,  aHists. 

Such  is  about  the  outhne  of  what  a  system  of  social  pro- 
fessions might  be.  A  treatise  of  professional  morahty  whicli 
would  be  in  harmony  with  this  outline,  would  be  all  one 
science,  the  elements  of  Avlaich  scarcely  exist,  being  dispersed 
in  a  multitude  of  works,  or  rather  in  the  practice  and  interior 
life  of  each  profession.  "We  will  content  ourselves  with  a  few 
general  indications. 

97.  I.  Mechanical  and  industrial  professions. — 1.  Env- 
ployers  and  cuqAuyees. — The  professions  wliieh  liave  for  their 
object  the  material  cultivation  of  the  globe,  and  particularly 
industry  and  commerce,  are  divided  into  two  great  classes  :  1, 
on  one  side,  those  avIio,  having  capital,  undertake  and  direct 
the  works  ;  2,  tliose  Avho  execxite  them  with  their  arms  and 
receive  icages.  The  first  are  the  empdoyers  ;  the  second  th3 
employees.  "\A1iat  are  the  respective  duties  of  these  two 
classes  1 

98.  Duties  of  employers. — The  duties  of  all  those  who, 
by  virtue  (jf  their  capital  legitimately  acquired,  or  by  virtue 
of  their  intelligence,  command,  direct  and  jiay  for  the  work 
done  by  men,  are  the  following : 

1.  They  should  raise  the  wages  of  the  wurkmen  as  liigh  as 


164  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

the  state  of  the  market  permits ;  aud  they  should  not  wait  to 
be  compelled  to  it  by  strikes  or  threats  of  strikes.  Conversaly, 
they  should  not,  from  weakness  or  want  of  foresight,  yield  to 
every  threat  of  the  kind ;  for  in  raising  the  wages  unreason- 
,ably  high,  one  may  disable  himself  from  entering  into  foreign 
'competition,  or  may  cause  the  ruin  of  the  himibler  manufac- 
turers who  have  not  sufficient  capital. 

2.  Capitalists,  employers  and  masters  shoidd  obey  strictly 
the  laws  established  for  the  protection  of  childhood.  They 
should  employ  the  work  of  minors  within  proper  limits,  and 
according  to  the  conditions  fixed  by  the  law. 

3.  Their  task  is  not  done  when  they  have  secured  to  the 
workmen  and  their  cltildren  the  share  of  work  and  wages 
which  is  their  due,  even  when  they  are  content  to  claim  noth- 
ing beyond  justice.  They  have  yet  to  fulfill  toward  their  sub- 
ordinates the  duties  of  protection  and  benevolence ;  they 
must  assist  them,  relieve  them,  be  it  in  accidents  happening 
to  them  in  the  work  they  are  engaged  in,  or  in  illness.  They 
must  spare  them  suspensions  of  work  as  much  as  possible ;  in 
short,  they  must,  through  all  sorts  of  establishments — schools, 
mutual-help  societies,  workmen-cities  {cites  ouvrieres),  etc. — 
encourage  education,  economy,  property,  yet  without  forcing 
upon  them  anything  that  would  diminish  their  own  responsi- 
bdity  or  impair  their  personal  dignity. 

99.  Duties  of  workingmen. — The  duties  of  Avorkingmen 
should  correspond  to  those  of  the  employers. 

1.  The  workingmen  owe  it  to  themselves  not  to  cherish  in 
their  hearts  feelings  of  hatred,  envy,  covetousness,  and  revolt 
against  the  employers.  Division  of  work  requires  that  in  in- 
dustrial matters  some  should  direct  and  others  be  directed. 
Material  exploitation  requires  capital;  and  those  who  bring 
this  capital,  the  fruit  of  former  work,  are  as  necessary  to  the 
workingmen  to  utilize  their  work  as  these  are  to  the  first 
in  utilizing  their  capital. 

2.  The  workingmen  owe  their  work  to  the  establishment 
which  pays  them  ;  it  is  as  much  their  interest  as  their  dutj'. 


PROFESSIOXAL    DUTIES.  IG.'i 

The  result  of  oaziness  and  intemperance  is  misery.  We  cannot 
enough  deplore  the  use  of  what  is  called  the  Mondays — a  day 
of  rest  over  and  beyond  the  legitimate  and  necessary  Sunday. 
It  is  certain  that  one  day  of  rest  in  a  week  is  absolutely  a 
necessity.  No  man  can  nor  ought  (except  in  circumstances 
unavoidable)  ^york  without  interruption  the  whole  year  through. 
But  the  week's  day  of  rest  once  secure,  all  that  is  over  and 
above  that,  is  taken  from  what  belongs  to  the  family  and  the 
provisions  against  old  age. 

3.  Supposing  that,  in  consequence  of  the  progress  of  in- 
dustry, the  number  of  hours  of  rest  could  be  increased — that, 
for  example,  the  houi-s  of  the  day's  work  could  be  reduced — 
these  hours  of  rest  should  then  be  devoted  to  the  family,  to 
the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  and  not  to  the  fatal  pleasures  of 
intoxication. 

The  workingmen  have  certainly  a  right  to  ask,  as  far  as 
they  are  v.orthy  of  it,  equality  of  consideration  and  influence 
in  society ;  and  all  our  modem  laws  are  so  constituted  as  to 
insure  them  this  equality.  It  rests  with  them,  therefore,  to 
render  themselves  worthy  of  this  new  equality  by  their  morals 
and  their  education.  To  have  their  children  educated ;  to 
educate  themselves;  to  occupy  their  leisure  with  family  inter- 
ests, in  reading,  in  innocent  and  elevating  recreations  (music, 
the  theatre,  gardening,  if  possible),  it  is  by  aU  such  pursuits 
that  the  workingmen  will  reduce  or  entirely  remove  the  in- 
equality of  manners  and  education  which  may  still  exist  be- 
tween them  and  their  superiors. 

4.  "Workingmen  cannot  be  blamed  for  seeking  to  defend 
their  interests  and  increase  their  comforts  ;  in  so  doing  they 
only  do  what  all  men  should  do.  They  have  also  the  right, 
in  order  to  get  satisfaction,  to  attach  to  their  work  such  con- 
ditions as  they  may  reasonably  desire  :  it  is  the  law  of  de- 
mand and  supply,  common  to  all  industries.  In  short,  as  an 
individual  refusal  to  work  is  a  means  absolutely  inefficacious 
to  bring  about  an  increase  of  wages,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  workingmen  have  a   rlLrht  to  act  in  concert  and  collect- 


1G6  ELEMENTS    OF   MOEALS. 

ively  to  refuse  to  Avork,  and,  collectively,  to  make  their  con- 
ditions ;  hence  the  right  of  strikes  recognized  to-day  hy  the 
law.  But  this  right,  granted  to  the  principle  of  the  liberty  of 
\vork,  must  not  he  turned  against  tliis  principle.  The  work- 
ingnien  who  freely  refuse  to  work  should  not  stand  in  the 
way  of  those  who,  finding  their  demands  ill-founded,  persist 
in  continuing  to  Avork  under  the  existing  conditions.  All 
violence,  all  threats  to  force  into  the  strike  him  who  is  opposed 
thereto,  is  an  injustice  and  a  tyranny.  This  violence  is  con- 
demned hy  law  ;  hut  as  it  is  easily  disguised,  it  cannot  always 
be  reached ;  it  is,  therefore,  through  the  morals  one  must  act 
upon  it — through  persuasion  and  education.  The  workmen 
must  gradually  adopt  the  morals  of  liberty,  must  respect  each 
other.  For  the  same  reason  they  should  respect  women's 
work ;  should  not  interdict  to  their  wives  and  daughters  the 
riglit  of  improving  their  condition  liy  work.  Unquestionably 
it  is  much  to  be  desired  that  woman  should  become  more  and 
more  centred  in  domestic  duties,  the  care  of  her  household  and 
family.  This  is  her  principal  part  in  the  social  work.  Eut 
as  long  as  the  imperfect  condition  of  the  laboring  classes  does 
not  permit  this  state  of  things,  it  may  be  said  that  the  work- 
men work  against  themselves  in  trying  to  close  the  field  of 
industry  to  women. 

The  teiidency  toward  the  equality  of  wages,  as  the  ideal  of 
the  remuneration  of  work,  is  also  to  be  condemned.  Nothing 
is  more  contrary  to  the  B})irit  of  the  times,  which  demands 
that  every  one  be  treated  according  to  his  Avbrk.  Capacity, 
l)ainstaking,  personal  efforts,  are  elements  that  demand  to  be 
proportionately  remunerated.  Let  us  add,  that  it  is  the  duty 
of  head  masters,  in  the  case  of  a  good  will,  succumbing  to 
jihysical  inability,  to  conciliate  benevolence  and  ecpiity  with 
justice;  this,  however,  is  only  an  exceptional  case.  But,  as  a 
princijjle,  each  one  should  be  rewarded  only  for  what  he  has 
done.  Otherwise  there  woidd  be  an  inducement  to  indiffer- 
ence and  idleness. 

100.  Workmen  and  farmers.— Having  considered  Avork- 


PROFESSIONAL   DUTIES.  107 

men  in  their  relations  with  their  masters,  let  ns  consider  them 
now  on  a  line  with  farmers ;  for,  according  as  one  lives  in  the 
city  or  in  the  country,  there  is  a  great  difference  in  manners, 
and  consequently  in  duties.  The  workmen  who  live  in  the 
city  are  for  that  very  reason  more  apt  to  acquire  new  ideas 
and  general  information ;  they  have  many  more  means  of 
educating  themselves ;  the  very  pleasures  of  the  city  afford 
them  opportunities  to  cultivate  their  mind.  Besides,  living 
nearer  to  each  other,  they  are  more  disposed  to  consider  their 
common  interests  and  turn  them  to  account.  Hence  advan- 
tages and  disadvantages.  The  advantages  are,  the  superiority 
of  intellectual  culture,  the  greater  aptitude  in  conceiving  gen- 
eral ideas,  a  stronger  interest  in  public  affairs ;  in  all  these 
respects,  city-life  presents  advantages  over  country-life.  But 
hence  also  arise  great  dangers.  The  workingmen,  quite  ready 
to  admit  general  ideas,  but  without  sufficient  information  and 
political  experience  to  control  them,  abandon  themselves 
readily  to  Utopian  preachings  and  instigations  to  revolt. 
Further,  very  much  preoccupied  with  their  common  interests, 
they  are  too  much  disposed  to  think  only  of  their  own  class, 
and  to  form,  as  it  were,  a  class  apart  in  society  and  in  the 
nation.  Hence  for  the  Avorkmen  a  double  duty  :  1,  to  obtain 
enough  information  not  to  blindly  follow  all  demagogues  ; 
2,  to  learn  to  consider  their  interests  as  connected  with  all 
those  of  the  other  classes  and  professions. 

Farmers  are  indebted  to  the  country-life  for  certain  advan- 
tages, which  carry  with  them,  at  the  same  time,  certain  dis- 
advantages. The  farmer  is  generally  more  attached  to  social 
stability  than  tlie  more  or  less  shifting  inhabitants  of  the 
towns ;  he  thinks  much  of  property ;  he  does  not  like  to 
change  in  his  manners  and  ideas.  He  is  thereby  a  powerful 
support  to '  conservatism  and  the  spirit  of  tradition,  Avithout 
Avhich  society  could  not  live  and  last.  He  has,  moreover,  had 
till  now  the  great  merit  of  not  singling  himself  out,  of  not 
se])arating  his  interests  from  those  of  the  country  in  general. 
Thus,  on  these  two  points — opposition  to  Utopias,  preservation 


1G8  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

of  social  unity — the  couutryman  serves  as  a  counterpoise  to  all 
the  opposite  tendencies  in  the  workmen.  But  these  very 
qualities  are,  perhaps,  the  result  of  certain  defects :  namely, 
the  absence  of  information  and  enlightenment.  The  coimtry- 
man  sees  not  very  much  bej'ond  his  church-steeple  ;  material 
life  occupies  and  absorbs  him  wholly ;  individual  and  personal 
interests  are  absolutely  predominant  in  him.  He  is  but  little 
disposed  to  give  his  children  any  education  ;  and  he  is  dis- 
posed to  look  upon  them  as  so  many  instruments  of  work  less 
expensive  than  others.  The  idea  of  a  general  country,  general 
interests  surpassing  private  interests,  is  more  or  less  wanting 
in  him.  "What  it  is  necessary  to  persuade  the  countryman  of, 
is  the  usefulness  of  education.  He  should  be  inspired  with  a 
taste  for  liberty,  Avhich  is  a  security  to  him  and  his  family,  as 
well  as  to  all  the  other  classes  of  society.  The  workman  in 
becoming  better  informed,  the  farmer  more  informed,  they 
will  gradually  blend  Avith  the  middle  classes,  and  there  will 
then  be  no  longer  those  oppositions  of  classes  and  interests  so 
dangerous  at  the  present  day.      (See  Appendix.) 

101.  II-  Military  duties. — AVe  have  already  considered 
military  duties,  as  the  duty  of  citizens  toward  the  State  ;  we 
have  now  to  consider  here  military  duties  in  themselves,  as 
special  duties,  peculiar  to  a  certain  class  of  citizens,  to  a  certain 
social  profession. 

1.  It  is  useless  to  say  that  the  peculiar  virtue  and  special 
duty  of  the  military  class  is  courar/e.  We  have  but  to  refer 
the  reader  to  what  will  be  said  further  on  (ch.  xiv.)  touching 
the  virtue  of  courage,  in  regard  to  the  duties  of  man  toward 
himself. 

2.  Patriotism  is  a  duty  of  all  classes  and  all  professions ; 
but  it  is  particularly  one  with  those  who  are  commissioned  to 
defend  the  country :  it  is,  therefore,  the  military  virtue  ^jar 
excellence. 

3.  Fidelity  to  the  flag. — This  duty  is  implied  in  the  two 
preceding  ones.  The  duty  of  courage,  in  fact,  implies  that 
one  should  not  flee  before  the  enerav  :  it  is  the  crime  of  deser- 


PROFESSIONAL    DUTIES.  169 

tion ;  that  one  should  not  pass  over  to  the  enemy  :  it  is  the 
crime  of  defection  or  treason.  This  latter  crime  has  become 
very  rare,  and  has  even  Avholly  disappeared  in  modern  France. 
Formerly  there  was  seen  a  Conde,  the  great  Conde  fighting 
against  the  French  at  the  head  of  Spanish  troops ;  and  so 
great  a  fault  scarcely  injured  his  reputation ;  in  our  days,  a 
simple  suspicion,  and  that  an  unjust  one,  blackened  the  whole 
life  of  a  Marshal  of  France.* 

4.  Obedience  and  discipline.  (See  above.  Duties  toward 
the  State,  preceding  chapter.) 

102.  III.  Public  functions— Administration — Deputation 
— Magistracy — The  Bar. — The  public  functions  are  the  divers 
acts  which  compose  the  government  of  a  State.  AVe  even 
include  the  elective  functions  (deputation,  general  councils, 
town  councils,  etc.),  l^ecause,  whilst  they  have  their  origin  in 
election,  they  are,  nevertheless,  functions,  the  purpose  of 
which  is  the  common  lueal,  public  interests.  For  the  same 
reason,  though  the  bar  is  a  free  profession,  it  is  so  con- 
nected with  magistracy,  it  is  so  necessary  a  dependency  of 
the  judicial  power,  that  it  is  thereby  itself  a  sort  of  public 
power. 

103.  Functionaries. — AVe  call  functionaries,  more  particu- 
larly, those  who  take  part  in  the  administration  of  the  country 
and  the  execution  of  its  laws.  Tliis  admitted,  the  principal 
duties  of  functionaries  are  : 

1.  The  Knowledge  of  the  laws  they  are  commissioned  to  exe- 
cute. Power  is  only  legitimate  as  far  as  it  is  guaranteed  by  com- 
petencij.  Ignorance  in  public  functions  has  for  its  results 
injustice,  since  arbitrariness  takes  then  the  place  of  the  law ; 
administrative  disorder,  since  the  law  has  precisely  for  its 
object  to  establish  rules  and  maintain  traditions ;  negligence, 
since  ignorant  of  the  principles  by  which  affairs  ought  to  be 
settled,  conclusions  are  kept  off  as  much  as  possible.  But  one 
must  not  defer  obtaining  administrative  information  till  called 

*  Marshal  Marniont  was  accused  of  treason  for  having  accepted  the  capitulation 
of  Essonne,  which  was  perhaps  imposed  upon  him  hy  necessity. 

8 


170  ELEMEI«rTS    OF   MORALS. 

to  take  a  share  in  the  administration.  A  general  information 
sliould  be  acquired  beforehand ;  for,  once  engaged  in  adminis- 
trative affairs,  there  is  then  no  longer  time  to  acquire  it. 

To  go  to  work  is,  therefore,  the  first  duty  of  those  who 
would  be  prepared  for  pubHc  functions ;  and  this  duty  of  work 
continues  with  the  functions ;  for  after  general  information 
has  been  obtained,  comes  the  special  and  technical  informa- 
tion, where  there  is  always  something  new  to  learn. 

2.  The  second  duty  of  functionaries  of  any  degree,  is  exac- 
titude and  assiduity.  The  most  brilhant  qualities,  and  the 
largest  and  amplest  muid  for  public  affairs,  will  render  but 
inefiicient  service — at  any  rate,  a  service  very  inferior  to  what 
could  be  expected  of  them,  if  these  qualities  are  counterbal- 
anced and  paralyzed  by  negligence,  laziness,  disorder,  inexact- 
ness. One  must  not  forget  that  all  negligence  in  public 
affairs  is  a  denial  of  justice  to  some  one.  An  administrative 
decision,  whatever  it  be,  has  always  for  its  result  to  satisfy 
the  just,  or  to  deny  the  unjust,  claims  of  some  one.  To  retard 
a  case  through  negligence,  may  therefore  deprive  some  one  of 
what  he  has  a  right  to.  There  are,  of  course,  necessary  delays 
wliich  arise  from  the  complication  of  affairs,  and  order  itself 
requires  that  everytliing  come  in  time  ;  but  delays  occasioned 
Ijy  our  own  fault  are  a  wrong  toward  others. 

3.  Tntegrity  and  discretion  are  also  among  the  most  impor- 
tant duties  of  functionaries.  The  fu'st  bears  especially  upon 
what  concerns  finances ;  but  there  are  everywhere  more  or 
less  opportunities  to  fail  in  probity.  For  example,  there  is 
nothing  more  shameful  than  to  sell  one's  influence ;  this  is 
what  is  called  extortion.  An  administrator  given  to  extortion 
is  the  shame  and  ruin  of  the  State.  As  to  discretion,  it  is 
again  a  duty  which  depends  on  the  nature  of  things.  It  is 
especially  obligatory  when  persons  are  in  question,  and  still 
more  so  in  certain  careers — as,  for  example,  in  diplomacy. 

4.  Justice. — The  strict  duty  of  every  administrator  or  func- 
tionary, is  to  have  no  other  rule  than  the  law;  to  avoid 
arbitrariness  and  favor,  to  have  no  regard  to  persons.     This 


PROFESSIONAL    DUTIES.  171 

duty,  it  must  be  said,  whilst  it  is  the  most  necessary,  is  also 
the  most  difficult  to  exercise,  and  one  which  requires  most 
courage  and  will  PubHc  opinion,  unfortunately,  encourages 
in  this  respect,  the  weaknesses  of  officials ;  it  is  convinced, 
and  spreads  everywhere  this  conviction,  that  all  is  due  to 
favoritism,  that  it  is  not  the  most  deserving  that  succeed,  but 
the  best  recommended.  Everybody  complains  of  it,  and  everj-- 
body  helps  toward  it.  There  is  unquestionably  much  exag- 
geration in  these  complaints.  Favor  is  not  everything  in  this 
Avorld.  It  is  too  much  the  interest  of  administrators  that  they 
shoidd  have  industrious  and  intelligent  assistants,  and  that  they 
shoidd  ejnploy  every  means  to  choose  them  well ;  and  in  public 
affairs,  the  interests  of  the  common  weal  always  predominate 
in  the  end.  It  is,  nevertheless,  an  evil  that  so  unfavorable  a 
prejudice  should  exist;  and  it  is  absolutely  a  duty  with  func- 
tionaries to  uproot  it,  in  showing  it  to  be  false. 

104.  Elective  functions — Deputation— Elective  councils. 
— There  is  a  whole  class  of  functionaries,  if  it  be  permitted  to 
say  so,  who  owe  their  origin  to  election,  and  who  are  the  man- 
dataries of  the  people,  either  in  municipal  councils,  or  in  gen- 
eral councils,  or  in  the  gTeat  elective  bodies  of  the  State,  the 
Senate  and  House  of  Representatives.  (See  Civil  instruction.) 
The  principle  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  requires  that 
for  all  its  interests,  communal,  departmental  or  national,  the 
country  have  a  deliberative  voice  by  means  of  its  representa- 
tives. The  duties  of  these  mandataries  are  generally  the  same 
in  any  degree  of  rank. 

1.  Fidelitij  to  the  mandate. — The  representative  is  the  in- 
terpreter of  certain  opinions,  of  certain  tendencies,  and  al- 
though the  majority  which  have  elected  liim  comprise  very 
diverse  elements,  there  exists  an  average  of  opinions,  and  it  is 
this  average  which  the  deputy  represents,  or  should  represent. 
He  would,  therefore,  fail  in  his  duty  if,  once  elected,  he  passed 
over  to  his  opponents,  or,  if  wishing  to  do  so,  he  did  not  ten- 
der his  resignation.  However,  this  fidelity  to  the  mandate 
should  not  be  carried  so  far  as  to  accept  what  is  called  the  ivi- 


173  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

perative  mandate,  Avhich.  is  the  negation  of  all  liberty  in  the 
representative,  and  makes  of  him  a  simple  voting  machine. 
The  representative  is  a  representative  precisely  because  he  is 
empowered,  on  liis  OAvn  responsibility,  to  find  the  best  means 
to  carry  out  the  wishes  of  his  constituents. 

2.  Independence. — The  deputy,  senator,  municipal,  or  de- 
partmental officer  should  be  independent  both  in  regard  to 
the  authorities  and  in  regard  to  the  electors.  From  the  au- 
thorities he  should  receive  no  favors ;  he  should  not  sell  his 
vote  in  any  interest  Avhatsoever ;  from  the  electors  he  has  to 
receive  advice  only,  but  no  orders.  Outside  their  office  as 
electors,  the  electors  are  nothing  but  simple  individuals.  As 
such  they  may  try  to  influence  representatives,  but  they  have 
otherwise  no  other  title  before  the  representatives  of  the  elect- 
oral corps.  The  representative  should,  above  all,  avoid  mak- 
ing himself  the  servant  of  the  electors,  for  the  satisfaction  of 
their  private  interests  and  passions.  It  is  often  thought  that 
independence  only  consists  in  resisting  courts  and  princes ; 
there  is  no  less  independence,  and  sometimes  even  is  there 
more  merit  and  courage  required  to  resist  the  tyranny  of 
the  masses,  and  especially  that  of  popular  leaders.  The 
deputy  should,  we  have  said,  be  faithful  to  his  trust — that 
is  to  say,  to  the  general  line  of  politics  adopted  by  the 
political  party  to  which  he  belongs  ;  but  within  these  general 
limits  it  is  for  him  to  assume  the  responsibility,  for  it  is 
for  this  very  reason  that  he  is  elected  a  representative. 
Let  us,  moreover,  add. that  fidelity  to  opinions  should  not 
degenerate  into  party  spirit,  and  that  there  is  an  interest 
which  should  supersede  all  others,  namely,  the  interest  of  the 
country. 

3.  The  spirit  of  conciliation  and  the  spirit  of  discipline. — 
Political  liberty,  more  than  any  other  political  principle,  re- 
quires the  spirit  of  concession.  If  each,  indeed,  fortifies  him- 
self in  his  own  opini(jns,  Avithout  ever  making  a  concession, 
all  having  the  right  to  do  the  same,  it  is  evident  that  no  com- 
mon conclusion  can  be  arrived  at.     The  consequence  of  the 


PROFESSIONAL   DUTIES.  173 

liherum  rdo*  pilshed  to  excess,  is  paralysis  of  power  or 
anarchy.  Nothing  is  done ;  and  in  politics,  when  nothing  is 
done,  all  becomes  disorganized,  dissolved.  It  is,  therefore, 
necessary  that  whilst  preserving  their  independence,  the  rep- 
resentatives sent  forth  by  the  electors  should  endeavor  to  ren- 
der government  possible  ;  they  should  not  overstep  the  limits 
of  their  trust  by  confounding  legislative  power  with  executive 
power  ;  they  should  try  to  harmonize  with  the  other  bodies  of 
the  State — in  short,  they  ought  each  to  sacrifice  the  necessary 
amount  of  their  individual  opinion  to  bring  about  a  common 
opinion.  In  a  free  government  it  is  no  more  a  duty  to  belong 
to  the  majority  than  to  the  ojiposition,  since  the  opposition 
may,  in  its  turn,  become  majority ;  but  whether  belonging  to 
the  one  or  to  the  other,  the  representative  shoidd  subordinate  his 
particular  views  to  the  common  interest ;  otherwise  the  parties 
scatter,  which,  in  the  long  run,  can  only  be  profitable  to  des- 
potism. 

105.  Judicial  power. — The  magistracy  and  the  bar. — 
The  judicial  power  is  exercised  by  magistrates  called  _/nr7^fo' .• 
it  is  they  who  decide  about  quarrels  between  individuals : 
this  is  what  is  called  civil  justice  ;  they  also  decide  about  the 
punishments  inflicted  on  criminals  who  have  made  attempts 
upon  a  life  or  property ;  and  this  is  penal  justice.  The 
duties  of  the  magistrate  are  easily  deduced  from  these  obliga- 
tions. 

1.  Impartiality  and  neutrality. — The  judge  must  neces- 
sarily remain  neutral  among  all  parties ;  he  should  have  no 
regard  to  persons,  should  render  equal  justice  to  the  rich  and 
to  the  poor,  to  the  high  and  to  the  low.  Equality  before  the 
hun,  which  is  one  of  the  principles  of  our  modern  institutions, 
should  not  only  be  a  principle  in  the  abstract ;  it  should  also 
be  a  practical  principle,  and  be  brought  before  the  eyes  of  the 
judges  as  one  among  the  first  of  their  obligations. 


♦  Tlie  liherum,  veto  in  Poland  was  the  right  of  eacli  representative  to  oppose  Ihu 
veto  of  the  laws  which  were  voteil  unanimously. 


174  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

2.  Intenritii  and  disinterestedness. — Xo  le^s  strict  a  duty  for 
the  judges,  and  which  it  is  scarcely  necessary  to  point  out,  is 
integrity.  Tlie  magistrate  should  be  free  from  all  suspicion 
of  venality.  Under  the  old  regime,  as  may  be  seen  in 
Eacine's  comedy  of  Tlte  Pleaders,  the  judges  ■were  not 
always  free  from  such  suspicion.  Of  course,  it  is  but  a 
comedy ;  but  such  a  comedy  could  no  longer  be  written  now- 
adays ;  it  would  no  longer  be  understood ;  our  morals  are  too 
much  improved  for  that.  The  obligation  should,  neverthe- 
less, be  pointed  out. 

3.  Impartiality  and  integrity  concern  above  all  civil  justice. 
The  duty  which  more  especially  concerns  criminal  justice,  is 
equity ;  namely,  a  moderate  justice,  intermediary  between  a 
dangerous  lenity  and  an  excessive  severity.  In  truth,  in  most 
cases,  at  least  in  the  gxaver  cases,  the  judge  has  scarcely  any- 
thing more  to  do  than  to  apply  the  law.  It  is  for  the  jury,  a 
sort  of  free  and  irresponsible  magistracy,  to  decide  upon  the 
culpability  or  innocence  of  the  prisoners.  It  is  for  the  jury 
to  find  a  just  medium  between  harshness  and  lenity.  But  the 
juryman  who,  above  all,  judges  as  a  man,  and  often  recoils 
from  responsibility,  should  fear  the  excess  of  lenity  :  the  judge, 
on  the  contrary,  accustomed  to  repression,  and  above  all  pre- 
occupied with  the  interests  of  society,  should  rather  defend 
himself  against  excess  of  rigor  and  severity. 

4.  Knowledije. — "\Aliat  is  for  most  men  but  a  luxury,  be- 
comes in  such  or  such  a ,  profession  a  strict  duty.  The 
Iniowledfje  of  the  laics,  for  example,  is,  for  the  magistrate,  as 
the  knowledge  of  the  human  body  for  the  physician,  a  strict 
oliligatinn.  He  who  wishes  to  enter  the  magistracy,  should 
therefore  carry  the  study  of  the  law  as  far  as  his  youth  permits 
it ;  but  he  should  not  stop  his  studies  the  moment  he  has 
eiitcrod  upon  his  career.  He  has  always  something  to  learn  ; 
he  sliould  kee])  himself  informed  of  the  progress  jurisprudence 
is  making.  It  is  useless  to  say  that,  independently  of  this 
general  work,  the  special  and  thorough  study  of  each  case 
brouglit  before  him  is  for  the  judge  a  duty  still  more  strict. 


PROFESSIONAL    DUTIES.  175 

Alongside  of  *  the  magistracy,  and  co-operating  with  it,  is 
placed  the  bar,  which  is  charged  with  the  defense  of  private 
interests  from  a  civil  or  criminal  point  of  view. 

From  a  civil  point  of  view,  the  trial  is  between  two  citizens, 
each  claiming  his  right  in  the  case ;  they  are  what  is  called 
pleaders,  and  the  trial  itself  is  called  a  law-suit.  The  pleaders, 
not  knowing  the  laws,  need  an  intermediary  to  explain  and 
defend  their  cause,  bring  it  clearly  to  the  comprehension  of  the 
magistrates  and  enforce  its  reasons.  This  is  the  part  of  the 
laAvyers. 

From  a  criminal  point  of  view,  the  trial  is  not  between  two 
individuals  ;  but  between  society  and  the  criminal.  Society, 
to  defend  itself,  employs  what  is  called  a  %mhlic  prosecutor ; 
the  criminal  needs  a  counsel.  The  part  of  a  counsel  belongs 
again  to  the  lawyers. 

The  duties  of  lawyers  are  varied  according  as  the  cases  are 
civil  or  criminal  cases. 

In  civil  law-suits,  the  absolute  duty  is  the  following :  not 
to  take  up  had  cases.  Only  it  is  necessary  to  understand  well 
this  principle.  It  is  generally  believed  that  a  bad  case  is  the 
losing  one,  and  a  good  case  the  winning  one.  Thus  would 
there  in  every  law-suit  be  a  lawyer  who  failed  in  his  duty  :  the 
one,  namely,  who  lost  the  case.  This  is  a  false  idea,  which  very 
unjustly  throws  in  many  minds  discredit  upon  the  profession 
of  the  law. 

Certainly  there  are  cases  where  the  law  is  so  clear,  juris- 
prudence so  established,  the  morality  so  evident  and  imperious, 
that  a  suit  having  the  three  against  itself,  may  be  called  a 
bad  case ;  and  the  lawyer  who  can  allow  his  client  to  believe 
the  suit  defensible,  and  who  employs  his  skill  and  eloquence 
in  defending  it,  fails  in  his  professional  duty.  But  this  is  not 
generally  the  case.  In  most  cases,  it  is  very  difficult  to  tell 
beforehand  who  is  right,  who  ^v^ong,  and  precisely  because  it 
is  difficult,  are  there  judges  whose  proper  function  it  is  to  de- 
cide. Now,  in  order  that  the  judge  may  decide,  he  must  bo 
acquainted  with  all  the  details  of  the  case ;  all  possible  reasons 


17G  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

from  both  sides  must  be  laid  before  him.  Everybody  knows 
that  one  can  never  of  one's  own  account  find  in  favor  of  a 
solution  or  conclusion,  all  the  reasons  which  the  interested 
party  can ;  now,  it  is  just  that  these  reasons  be  set  forth : 
this  is  the  business  of  the  lawyers.  One  must  not  forget  that 
in  every  law-suit  there  is  a  pro  and  a  con.  It  is  for  this  very 
reason  there  is  a  suit.  The  lawyers  are  specially  here  to  plead 
for  the  pro  and  con,  each  from  his  own  standpoint.  One 
could  very  well  understand,  for  example,  that  the  court  should 
have  at  its  disposal  functionaries  commissioned  to  prepare 
the  cases  and  plead  for  the  contending  parties:  one  would 
take  up  Peter's  cause,  the  other,  Paid's  ;  this  is  just  the  part 
of  the  lawyers,  with  this  difference,  that  the  choice  of  the 
lawyer  is  left  to  the  client,  because  it  is  but  just  that  a  deputy 
be  chosen  by  him  he  is  supposed  to  represent. 

In  criminal  cases  there  are  equally  very  delicate  questions. 
How  can  a  lawyer  defend  as  innocent  one  who  is  guilty? 
Were  it  not  an  actual  lie  ?  And  yet  society  does  not  aUow 
that  any  accused,  whoever  he  be,  be  left  without  counsel ;  and 
when  none  present  themselves,  it  provides  one,  charging  him 
to  save  the  life  of  the  accused  if  he  can.  It  is  the  interest  of 
society  that  no  innocent  person  be  condemned,  and  that  even 
the  guilty  should  not  be  punished  beyond  Avhat  he  deserves ; 
in  short,  it  takes  care  that  all  the  reasons  that  can  be  brought 
forth  to  attenuate  the  gravity  of  an  offense  be  well  weighed, 
and  even  set  forth  in  a  manner  to  arouse  pity  and  sympathy. 
Such  is  the  business  of  the  lawyers. 

It  is  evident  that  these  considerations,  which  show  the 
lawyer's  profession  to  be  one  so  legitimate  and  exalted,  should 
not  be  improperly  understood.  These  general  rides  must  be 
interpreted  with  delicacy  of  feeling  and  conscience. 

106.  IV.  Science  — Teaching  —  Medicine — The  letters 
and  arts. — Beside  the  social  potvers  which  make,  execute  and 
apply  the  laws,  there  is  science,  which  instructs  men,  en- 
lightens them,  directs  their  work,  and  which  even,  setting 
utility  aside,  is  yet  in  itself  an  object  of  disinterested  research. 


PROFESSIONAL   DUTIES.  177 

Side  by  side  with  the  sciences  are  the  letters  and  arts,  ■vvliich 
pursue  and  express  the  heautiful,  as  science  pursues  the  true. 
Finally,  to  science  and  art  are  added  moralitij  and  religion, 
whose  object  is  the  good.  The  moralists,  it  is  true,  do  not 
constitute  a  particular  profession  in  society,  or  at  least  their 
part  is  blended  with  teaching  in  geneml ;  religion  has  its  in- 
terpreters, who  find  in  their  dogmas  and  traditions  the  rules 
of  their  duties.  It  is  not  the  business  of  lay  morality  to  teach 
these.  Let  us,  therefore,  content  ourselves  with  a  few  prin- 
ciples concerning  the  sciences  and  letters. 

107.  Science — Duties  of  Scientists. — Science  may  be 
cultivated  in  two  different  ways  and  from  two  different  stand- 
points :  1,  for  itself  ;  2,  for  its  social  advantages — for  the  ser- 
vices it  renders  to  men.  There  is  but  a  small  number  of  men 
who  have  a  natural  taste  for  pure  science,  and  the  leisure  to 
give  themselves  up  to  the  love  of  it ;  but  those  who  choose 
such  a  life  contract  thereby  certain  duties. 

The  first  of  all  is  the  love  of  truth.  The  only  object  for  the 
scientist  to  pursue  is  truth.  He  must,  therefore,  lay  aside  all 
interests  and  passions  antagonistic  to  truth ;  and,  above  all, 
personal  interest  which  inclines  one  to  prefer  one  theme  to 
another,  because  of  the  advantages  it  may  bring  ;  this  is,  how- 
ever, so  gross  a  motive,  that  it  would  not  be  supposed  to  exist 
Avith  a  true  scholar  ;  yet  are  there  other  causes  of  error  no  less 
dangerous — for  example,  the  interest  of  a  cause — of  a  convic- 
tion which  is  dear  to  us ;  the  interest  of  our  self-love,  which 
makes  us  persist  in  error  kno^vn  to  be  such ;  the  spirit  of  sys- 
tem, by  which  one  shows  his  peculiar  forte,  etc.  All  these 
passions  should  give  way  before  the  pure  love  of  truth. 

108.  The  communication  of  science— Teaching.— The 
principal  duty  of  those  who  are  possessed  of  science  is  to  com- 
municate it  to  other  men.  Certainly,  all  men  are  not  called 
to  be  scholars  ;  but  all  should  in  some  degree  have  their  intelli- 
gence cultivated  by  iuMrudion.  Hence  the  duty  of  teaching  im- 
posed upon  scholars ;  but  this  duty  brings  with  it  many  others. 

1.   The  masters  who  teach  others  should  themselves  lirst  be 


178  ELEMEJS^TS-OF   MORALS. 

educated.  Hence  the  duty  of  intellectual  work,  not  nisrely  to 
acquire  knowledge,  without  which  one  cannot  be  a  teacher, 
but  to  preserve  and  increase  it.  The  teacher  should,  there- 
fore, set  an  example  to  his  pupil  of  assiduous  and  continuous 
intellectual  work. 

2.  The  teacher  should  love  his  pupils — children,  if  he  is 
called  upon  to  teach  children ;  young  men,  if  he  is  to  address 
young  men.  The  teacher  should  not  only  think  of  the  science 
he  teaches,  but  of  the  fruits  his  pupils  are  to  reap  from  it ; 
one  can  only  be  interested  in  what  he  loves.  A  teacher  in- 
different toward  the  young,  will  never  make  the  necessary 
effort  to  lead  and  educate  them. 

3.  The  teacher,  in  teaching,  should  unite  in  a  just  measure 
disdiMne  and  liberty.  Instruction  naturally  presupposes  one 
that  knows  and  one  that  does  not  know ;  and  it  is  necessary 
that  the  one  should  direct  the  other ;  hence  the  necessity  of 
discipline.  But  the  purpose  of  instruction  is  to  teach  to  do 
without  the  master — to  be  one's  own  master  in  thought  and 
conduct ;  hence  the  necessity  of  liberty.  This  libeity  should 
grow  along  with  the  instruction,  and,  of  course,  proportionately 
to  age ;  but,  at  any  age,  one  should  take  advantage  of  the 
faculties  of  a  child,  and  make  it  as  much  as  possible  find  out 
by  itself  what  is  within  its  reach. 

4.  The  teacher  shoidd  not  separate  instruction  from  educa- 
tion. He  should  not  only  communicate  knowledge — he  should 
above  all  form  men,  characters,  wills.  Instruction  is,  besides, 
already  in  itself  an  education.  Can  one  instruct  without  ac- 
customing young  minds  to  work,  to  obedience,  to  correct 
habits  of  thought ;  without  putting  into  their  hands  good 
books  ;  witliout  giving  them  good  examples  ?  It  is  most  true 
that  one  does  not  form  men  with  pure  and  abstract  science 
alone, — it  is  necessary  to  add  the  letters,  history,  morality, 
religion.  The  teacher,  besides,  should  study  the  character  of 
his  pupils,  should,  through  Avork  and  moral  and  physical  exer- 
cises, put  down  presumption,  correct  unmanliness,  combat 
selfishness,  anticipate  or  restrain  the  passions. 


PROFESSIONAL   DUTIES.  179 

109.  Applied  science — Industry— Medicine. — Science 
may  find  its  application  in  two  ways,  either  to  things,  or  to  men. 
Applied  to  things,  it  is  called  indudry  ;  applied  to  men,  medi- 
cine. There  are  no  special  duties  concerning  industrial  pursuits. 
Engineers,  private  or  in  the  service  of  the  State,  employed  in 
civil  or  military  works,  have  no  other  duties  then  the  general 
duties  of  functionaries,  military-men,  employees,  etc.  It  is 
not  the  same  with  medicine.  There  are  here  obligations  of  a 
special  and  gi-aver  nature. 

110.  Duties  of  the  physician— His  Icnowiedge. — Knowl- 
edge is  an  obligation  in  every  profession  ;  everywhere  it  is  in- 
dispensable to  know  the  thing  one  is  engaged  in ;  but,  in 
medicine,  ignorance  is  of  a  much  more  serious  character  :  for 
it  may  end  in  manslaughtef)\  How  can  any  one  attend  the 
sick  if  he  knows  nothing  of  the  human  body  ;  if  he  is  ignorant 
of  the  symptoms  of  a  disease  1  He  has,  it  is  true,  the  resource 
of  doing  nothing ;  but  might  not  this  also  be  manslaughter  ? 
Does  he  not  then  take  the  place  of  him  who  knows  and  might 
save  the  patient  1 

2.  Secrecy. — The  physician  is  above  all  held  to  secrecy. 
He  must  not  make  known  the  diseases  which  have  been 
revealed  to  him.  This  is  what  is  called  mediccd  secrecy.  This 
obligation  may  in  certain  cases  give  rise  to  the  most  serious 
troubles  of  conscience ;  but,  as  a  rinciple,  it  may  be  said  that 
secrecy  is  as  absolute  a  duty  for  the  physician  as  it  is  for  the 
father-con  f  essor. 

3.  Courage. — The  physician,  we  have  seen,  has  his  point 
dhonneur,  like  the  military-man ;  lie  often  runs  equally  great 
dangers  :  he  must,  if  necessary,  devote  himself  and  risk  his 
life.  He  requires  also  a  go-eat  moral  courage,  when  he  is 
brought  before  a  serious  illness  where,  at  the  moment  of  a 
dangerous  operation,  when  his  hand  must  be  as  firm  as  his 
mind,  he  needs  all  the  self-possession  he  can  command. 

4.  Duties  toward  the  sick  :  Kindness  and  severity. — The 
physician  should  be  firm  in  the  treatment  of  his  patients ;  he 
should  insist   that   his  prescriptions  be   uncomlitionally   fol- 


180  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

lowed,  for  his  responsibility  rests  on  this:  he  should  rather 
give  up  the  case  than  consent  to  a  dangerous  disobedience. 
At  the  same  time  he  must  encourage  the  patient,  raise  his 
strength  by  inspiring  liim  with  confidence,  Avhich  is  half  the 
cure.  He  must  also,  without  deceiving  it,  uphold  the  courage 
of  the  family.  In  some  cases  it  may  be  necessary  to  tell  the 
patient  the  danger  he  is  in. 

III.  Writers  and  artists. — The  morality  of  writers  and 
artists  is,  as  in  all  the  preceding  cases,  determined  by  the  object 
these  persons  devote  their  lives  to.  The  object  of  the  writer 
and  artist  is  the  realization  of  the  heautiful,  either  in  speech 
or  writing  (literature),  or  through  color  and  lines  (painting, 
sculpture),  or  through  sound  (music).  In  aU  these  arts,  the 
leading  thought  should  be  the  interests  of  the  art  one  is  culti- 
vating. One  should  as  much  as  possible  beware  turning  it 
into  a  trade — that  is  to  say,  into  a  mercenary  art,  having  gain 
only  for  its  object.  Certainly  one  must  live,  and  it  is  rare 
that  writers,  poets,  artists,  have  at  their  command  resources 
enough  to  do  without  the  pecuniary  fruit  of  pen  or  hand ;  but 
the  attainment  of  the  beautif id  should  be  preferred  to  that  of 
the  useful :  study,  the  imitation  of  the  great  masters,  contempt 
for  fashion,  striving  after  all  that  is  delicate,  noble,  pure,  the 
avoiding  of  all  that  is  low,  frivolous,  factitious  :  such  are  the 
principles  which  should  regulate  the  morality  of  artist  and 
writer.  It  is  useless  to  add  that  they  should  seek  their  suc- 
cess in  what  elevates  the  soul,  and  not  in  what  corrupts  and 
degrades  it.  Coarseness,  brutality,  license,  should  be  absolutely 
condemned.  Better  to  devote  one's  self  to  a  useful  and  humble 
profession  than  employ  one's  talent  in  depraving  morals,  and 
degrading  souls. 

The  duties  of  the  poet  have  been  eloquently  expressed  by 
Boileau  in  his  Art 2^oetiq7ie. 

1.  It  is  a  duty  to  devote  one's  self  to  poetry  and  the  fine  arts 
only  when  one  has  a  decided  vocation  for  them. 

"  Be  rather  a  mason,  if  that  be  your  talent." 


PROFESSIONAL   DUTIES.  181 

2.  The  poet  should  listen  to  good  advice. 

"  Make  choice  of  a  solid  and  wholesome  censor." 

3.  The  poet  and  artist  should,  in  their  verses  and  works,  be 
the  interpreters  of  virtue. 

"  Let  your  soul  and  your  morals,  depicted  in  your  works, 
Never  present  of  j'ou  but  noble  images." 

Love,  then,  virtue ;  nourisli  your  soul  therewith. 

"  The  verse  alwaj's  savors  of  the  baseness  of  the  heart." 

4.  They  must  avoid  jealousies  and  rivalries. 

"  Flee,  above  all,  flee  base  jealousies." 

5.  They  must  prefer  glory  to  gain. 

"  AVork  for  glory  and  let  no  sordid  gain 
Ever  be  the  object  of  a  noble  writer." 


CHAPTER  JX 

INTERNATIONAL   DUTIES — INTERNATIONAL   LAW. 


SUMMARY. 

General  principles  of  international  law. — They  are  the  principles  of 
the  natural  law  applied  to  the  relations  nations  sustain  to  each  other. 

Of  war. — War  founded  on  the  right  of  self-defense.  The  reasons  for  a 
just  war. 

Defensive  and  offensive  wars. — This  division  does  not  necessarily 
correspond  to  that  of  just  or  unjust  wars. — Precautions  and  prepara- 
tions. — Duties  in  times  of  war  :  to  reconcile  as  much  as  possible  the 
rights  of  humanity  Avith  those  of  patriotism. — Rights  of  war  concern- 
ing the  enemy's  property. — Conquest. — Neutrality. 

International  treaties:  their  character;  their  forms;  their  different 
species. — Essential  conditions  for  public  treaties:  they  are  the  same 
as  for  private  contracts. 

Observance  of  treaties. — Obligatory  character  of  treaties  :  testimony 
of  Cardinal  Richelieu. 

The  human  race  being  divided  into  divers  particular  socie- 
ties called  States  or  nations,  those  different  bodies  stand  to- 
ward each  other  as  individuals ;  they  are  subject  to  the 
primitive  laws  existing  naturally  among  all  men,  and  they  are 
obliged  to  practice  certain  duties  toward  each  other. 

112.  International  law. — General  principles. — It  is  this 

bmly  of  laws  wliicli  is  (■ailed  intcrnntional  law,  and  which  is 
nothing  more  tluin  the  natural  law  itself,  or  the  moral  law  ai> 
plied  to  nations. 

It  is  by  virtue  of  this  natural  law  that  the  nations  ought  to. 


DUTIES   OF   KATIONS   AMONG   THEMSELVES.  183 

consider  each  other  equals,  and  independent  of  each  other ; 
that  they  should  not  injure  each  other,  and  should  make  each 
other,  on  the  contrary,  reparation  for  injury  done.  Hence  the 
right  of  self-defense  in  case  of  attack,  of  repelling  and  restrain- 
ing by  force  whatever  violence  may  threaten  or  oppress  them. 
Wlien  nations  practice  toward  each  other  the  prescriptions 
of  the  natural  law,  they  are  in  a  state  of  ^^eace  with  each 
other ;  when  they  are  obliged  to  resort  to  force  to  repel  in- 
justice, they  are  in  a  state  of  ivar. 

113.  War. — It  is  evident  that  in  all  nations  the  ruler,  who- 
ever he  be  (the  people,  nobles,  or  king),  ouglit  to  have  the 
right  to  carry  on  war ;  for  it  is  nothing  else  tlian  the  right  of 
self-defense,  and  this  right  is  the  same  for  the  nation  as  for 
individuals.  War  is,  then,  legitimate  in  principle;  but  in 
fact,  it  may  be  just  or  tmjust  according  as  it  takes  place  for 
good  or  bad  reasons,  and  sometimes  for  no  reason  at  all, 

114.  Reasons  of  a  just  war.  —It  is  not  easy  to  say  in  ad- 
vance and  in  a  general  manner,  what  may  be  the  reasons  of  a 
just  war ;  for  they  vary  according  to  circumstances  ;  they  may 
be  all  reduced  to  one  fundamental  principle,  namely,  the  de- 
fense of  the  national  territory  when  threatened.  Moreover,  a 
\var  may  be  undertaken  not  only  in  self-defense,  but  to  protect 
allies  when  they  are  unjustly  attacked.  As  for  the  following 
reasons,  more  or  less  frequently  alleged  as  pretexts  for  war, 
good  morality  cannot  justify  them  : 

1.  Thus,  the  fear  of  the  powerful  neighbor,  giving,  for  ex- 
ample, as  a  pretext  that  he  erects  new  citadels  on  his  lands, 
organizes  an  army,  increases  his  troops,  etc.,  is  not  a  sufficiently 
just  reason  for  war. 

2.  UtiHty  does  not  give  the  same  right  as  necessity  :  for 
example,  arms  could  not  legitimately  be  resorted  to  in  order  to 
gain  possession  of  a  place  which  might  suit  our  convenience, 
ond  be  proper  to  protect  our  frontiers. 

3.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the  desire  to  change  dwelling- 
]ilace,  to  leave  marshes,  deserts,  in  order  to  settle  in  a  more 
fertile  country. 


184  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

4.  It  is  no  less  unjust  to  make  attempt  upon  the  rights  and 
liberties  of  a  people  under  pretext  that  they  are  less  intelligent 
or  less  civilized  than  we  are.  The  cause  of  civilization  is, 
then,  not  a  cause  for  just  war  so  long  as  we  have  not  ourselves 
been  attacked  by  barbarians. 

5.  Nor  is  it  just  to  conquer  a  people  under  pretext  that  our 
conquest  may  be  to  its  advantage,  bring  it  riches,  or  liberty, 
or  morality,  etc. 

115.  Defensive  and  offensive  wars. — We  distinguish  two 
kinds  of  war,  defensive  and  offensive.  The  first  consists  in  de- 
fending the  national  territory,  the  second,  in  attacking  the 
enemy's  territory. 

It  would  be  a  mistake  to  confound  defensive  and  offensive 
wars  with  just  and  unjust  wars,  and  to  believe  that  only  the 
defensive  wars  are  just,  and  all  offensive  ones  unjust.  This 
distinction  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  causes  of  the  war,  but 
concerns  the  manner  of  engaging  in  it ;  sometimes  one's  in- 
terest lies  in  allowing  one's  self  to  be  attacked,  sometimes  in 
attacking.  He  who  has  done  us  injustice  may  very  well  wait 
for  us  to  come  to  him,  instead  of  carrying  arms  to  us ;  this 
does  not  prove  him  to  be  in  the  right.  He  who,  on  the  con- 
trary, takes  up  arms  to  obtain  reparation  for  an  injustice  or  an 
insult,  does  not  prove  there1:)y  tliat  he  is  in  the  wrong. 

116.  Precautions  and  preparations, — Even  in  the  case  of 
just  causes,  there  are  certain  precautions  and  preparations 
necessary  in  order  that  the  war  be  called  a  just  one. 

1.  The  subject  must  be  of  great  consequence.  It  is  criminal, 
for  a  frivolous  cause,  to  expose  men  to  all  the  evils  that  accom- 
pany a  war,  even  the  most  fortunate. 

2.  There  must  be  some  probability  of  success  :  for  it  would 
be  criminally  rash  to  expose  one's  self  foolhardily  to  certain 
destruction  and,  to  avoid  a  lesser  evil,  throw  one's  self  into  a 
greater. 

3.  If  we  had  no  gentler  means  at  our  disposal. 

There  are  two  ways  of  settling  a  dispute  between  nations, 
without  recourse  to  anus:   1,  an  amicahle  conference  between 


DUTIES   OF   NATIONS   AMONG   THEMSELVES.         185 

the  parties ;  2,  the  intervention  of  a  disinterested  third  party, 
or  arhitrament.  A  third  means,  much  rarer  and  now  aban- 
doned, is  that  of  casting  lots.  When  all  the  means  of  settling 
the  difficulty  amicably  have  been  exhausted,  there  remains,  be- 
fore taking  up  arms,  a  final  obligation,  namely,  to  declare  to  the 
enemy  the  resolution  of  employing  the  last  means :  this  is 
what  is  called  a  declaration  of  '/car. 

117.  Duties  In  times  of  war. — War  having  become  a  sad 
and  unavoidable  necessity  between  nations,  and  the  use  of 
force  determined  on,  it  behooves  as  much  as  possible  to  restrict 
it  in  its  effects,  and  to  reconcile  the  rights  of  humanity  with 
those  of  justice.  Hence,  certain  rules  established  by  juris- 
consults who  have  treated  these  matters,  and  notably  Grotius, 
the  founder  of  international  law. 

The  fundamental  principle  of  the  right  of  war  is  the 
following :  All  that  has  a  morally  necessary  connection  with 
the  purpose  of  the  war  is  allowed,  but  nothing  more.  In 
fact,  it  would  be  wholly  useless  to  have  the  right  to  do  a 
thing,  if,  to  accomplish  it,  one  could  not  employ  the  neces- 
sary means  thereto  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  would  not  be 
just  if,  under  the  pretext  of  only  defending  one's  rights,  one 
should  believe  that  everything  is  permitted,  and  should  resort 
to  the  last  extremities. 

From  this  general  principle  are  deduced  the  following  con- 
sequences, which  are  only  its  applications  : 

1.  It  is  certain  that  it  is  lawful  to  kill  theenem3'^'s  soldiers, 
and,  in  fact,  the  purpose  of  the  war  being  to  constrain  the 
enemy  to  recognize  the  justice  of  our  cause,  it  would  be  vain 
to  take  up  arms  if  one  could  not  use  them.  It  is  then  one  of 
the  cases  where  manslaughter  may  be  considered  innocent, 
and  justified  by  the  right  of  personal  self-defense.  (See  above, 
Ch.  iii.,  p.  50.) 

2.  However,  the  right  of  death  upon  the  enemy  has  its 
limits.  As  a  principle,  it  only  extends  to  those  who  carry 
arms,  and  not  to  private  individuals  who  do  not  defend  them- 
selves, arms  in  hand.      Such  can  only  accidentally  become  the 


186  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

victims  of  the  war :  for  instance,  it  is  impossible  in  a  battle  to 
protect  the  inhabitants  of  a  disputed  village  against  the  balls 
of  either  party ;  but  we  should  not  knowingly  strike  dead 
those  who  do  not  defend  themselves. 

3.  Strangers  should  be  allowed  to  quit  a  country  exposed 
to  war ;  and  if  obhged  to  stay,  they  should  be  no  further  ex- 
posed than  to  share  its  inevitable  perils  with  the  other  citizens. 

4.  Prisoners  of  war  should  be  neither  killed  nor  reduced  to 
slavery,  but  simply  prevented  from  doing  mischief. 

As  to  the  means  employed  to  deprive  an  enemy  of  his  life, 
humanity,  with  just  reason,  interdicts  the  use  of  certain 
cowardly  and  perfidious  means ;  as,  for  instance,  poisoned 
bullets,  or  too  cruel  means  of  destruction,  or  lastly,  assassina- 
tion. 

Thus,  it  Avonld  be  odious  to  send  traitors  secretly  charged 
to  kill  the  hostile  general.  There  is,  besides,  no  example  of 
such  attempts  in  modern  wars,  and  the  human  conscience 
would  unanimously  reprove  them. 

Thus  much  concerning  the  rights  war  gives  over  the  lives 
of  enemies.  Let  us  consider  now  the  duties  regarding  prop- 
erty. 

1.  "War  gives  the  right  to  destroy  the  property  of  the 
enemy ;  it  is  what  is  called  the  right  of  ravage.  But  ravage 
should  not  be  pursued  for  its  own  sake,  but  only  to  wea-ken 
the  enemy.  Thus  we  should  as  much  as  possible  spare  public 
monuments,  works  of  art,  etc. 

2.  It  is  a  right  of  war  to  acquire  and  appropriate  things  be- 
longing to  the  enemy  until  agreement  as  to  the  moneys  due, 
including  the  expenses  of  the  Avar. 

3.  It  is  by  virtue  of  these  principles  that,  in  case  of  naval 
encounters,  it  is  justifiable  to  take  possession  of  the  enemy's 
vessels,  and  not  only  of  men-of-war,  but  of  merchant-men  and 
the  goods  they  carry. 

4.  This  right  upon  the  enemy's  property  is  only  the  sover- 
eign's ;  he  alone  has  a  right  to  appropriate,  in  the  name  of 
the  State,  the  property  of  the  invaded  territory,  by  way  of 


DUTIES   OF   ilATIONS   AMONG   THEMSELVES.  187 

restitution  or  guaranty ;  but  war  does  not  confer  upon  single 
individuals  the  right  of  taking  possession  of  people's  property 
and  appropriating  it :  this  is  simply  pillage. 

118.  Conquest. — We  call  right  of  conquest  the  right  which 
belongs  to  a  State  to  bring  under  its  sovereignty  the  whole  or 
part  of  another  State,  by  virtue  of  the  right  of  war.  Con- 
quest, it  will  be  seen,  is  but  the  right  of  the  strongest.  It  is 
contrary  to  the  principle  of  modern  political  societies,  which 
requires  that  tlie  State  rest  on  the  free  contract  of  citizens,  and 
that  a  people  should  only  be  subject  to  laws  consentexi  to. 

It  is  not  easy  to  have  an  official  authentication  of  this  con- 
sent ;  but  it  is  certain  that  there  are  annexations  that  are 
voluntary,  and  others  that  are  not.  The  latter,  it  must  be 
hoped,  will  become  less  and  less  frequent  as  the  idea  of  justice 
among  nations  develops. 

119.  Neutrality. — We  call  Tieidrality  the  situation  of  States 
■which,  in  a  case  of  war,  side  with  neither  the  one  nor  the 
other  of  the  belligerents,  but  remain  at  peace  with  the  two 
parties.  They  are,  therefore,  obliged  to  practice  toward  them 
the  laws  of  natural  right  impartially :  if,  for  example,  they 
render  to  one  a  service  of  humanity,  they  must  not  refuse  the 
game  service  to  the  other.  They  must  not  furnish  means  of 
hostility  to  either  the  one  or  the  other,  or  they  must  furnish 
them  to  both.  They  must  lend  their  good  offices  for  a  settle- 
ment if  they  have  any  chance  of  being  listened  to. 

These  rules  are  very  simple  ;  but,  practically,  the  situation 
of  neutrals  is  a  very  delicate  one,  and  gives  rise  to  numerous 
difficulties,  for  the  solution  of  which,  resort  must  be  had  to 
the  s}Tecial  treatises  on  the  law  of  nations. 

120.  International  treaties:  their  characters:  their 
forms. — We  have  seen  that  nations  have  among  each  other, 
the  same  as  individuals,  obligations  and  rights  which  they 
derive  from  the  natural  law.  But  there  are  other  obligations 
and  other  rights  which  are  no  longer  based  on  nature,  but  on 
special  contracts  or  iisages.  The  international  law  which  bears 
on  usages  is  called  ciistomary  right ;  that  which  comes  from 


188  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

compacts,  is  called  conventional  right.  The  compacts  between 
States  are  called  treaties. 

Treaties  are  equal  or  unequal,  according  as  tliey  promise 
equal  or  unequal  things ;  2^''^^onal  or  i'eal,  according  as  they 
relate  only  to  certain  persons,  and  during  their  lives,  or  as 
they  are  indei^endent  of  persons  and  last  as  long  as  the  State 
itself ;  pure  and  simple  or  conditional ;  in  the  first  case  tlie 
stipulations  are  absolute ;  in  the  second  they  depend  on  cer- 
tain conditions. 

There  .  are  different  species  of  treaties  according  to  their 
different  objects  :  treaties  of  alliance  ;  treaties  of  boundaries  ; 
treaties  of  cession  ;  treaties  of  navigation  and  commerce  ;  trea- 
ties of  neutralitii ;  treaties  of  peace. 

121.  Essential  conditions  of  public  treaties. — As  a  prin- 
ciple, the  rides  which  govern  international  compacts  are  (with 
the  exception  of  a  few  differences)  the  same  as  those  which 
govern  private  compacts.  There  are  three  fundamental  con- 
ditions:  1,  the  consent;  2,  a  licit  cause;  3,  the  capacity  of 
the  contracting  parties.    (See  above,  92.) 

The  consent  should  be:   1,  declared;  2,  free  ;  3,  mutual. 

The  licit  causes  are  those  which  are  physically  possible  or 
morally  legitimate ;  the  illicit  causes  are  those  which  are  con- 
trary to  morality,  as,  for  example,  would  l)o  the  establishment 
of  slavery. 

The  capacity  of  making  a  compact  belongs  to  the  sovereign 
of  the  State  alone  ;  but  it  is  necessary  that  this  'sovereign  be 
really  invested  with  the  power.  A  sovereign  stripped  of  his 
sovereignty  has  no  power  to  malce  compacts,  although  he  might 
have  all  the  most  legitimate  rights ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
usurping  power  can  legitimately  make  compacts.  The  reason 
of  this  is,  that  foreign  nations  are  not  capable  to  decide  what 
with  another  people  constitutes  the  legitimacy  or  non-legit- 
imacy of  power :  there  is  for  them,  therefore,  only  the  power 
d.e  facto.  Yet  this  is  but  the  general  rule.  There  may  be 
cases  where  a  foreign  government  may  refuse  to  recognize  a 
usurper's  power. 


DUTIES   OF    Is'^ATIOXS   AMONG    THEMSELVES.  189 

122.  Observance  of  treaties. — The  oljligation  to  observe 
treaties  is  based  ou  the  natural  law.  Whether  compacts  take 
})lace  l)etween  States  or  individuals,  it  matters  little.  The 
States,  in  respect  to  each  other,  arc  like  private  individuals. 
Certain  publicists,  particularly  Machiavelli,  have  maintained 
that  the  obligation  to  observe  treaties  only  lasts  as  long  as 
these  accord  with  our  interests.  As  much  as  to  say  that  one 
should  not  make  any  compacts.  Besides,  Machiavelli's  opinion 
is  in  such  disrepute  that  it  is  almost  useless  to  discuss  it.  We 
will  content  ourselves  with  setting  against  it  the  following 
beautiful  thought  of  a  great  politician  : 

Kings  should  be  very  careful  in  making  treaties,  hut  when  once 
made,  tliey  must  observe  them  religiously.  I  know  very  well  that 
many  politicians  teach  the  contrary  ;  but  without  stopping  to  consider 
what  Christianity  has  to  say  regarding  these  maxims,  I  maintain  that, 
since  the  loss  of  honor  is  greater  than  that  of  life,  a  great  prince  should 
rather  risk  his  person,  and  even  the  loss  of  his  State,  than  break  his 
word,  whicli  he  cannot  break  without  losing  his  reputation,  con- 
sequently, his  greatest  strength  as  a  sovereign.  (Cardinal  de  Ricliclieu, 
TcstamoU  ■politique,  2«  partie,  ch.  vi.) 


CHAPTER  X. 

FAMILY     DUTIEi 


SUMMARY. 

The  family. — Origin  and  history  of  the  family. — The  family  originat- 
ing in  the  necessity  of  the  perpetuation  of  the  species,  has  gradually 
gained  in  morality  until  it  has  reached  the  present  state,  namely, 
monogamy,  or  marriage  between  one  man  and  one  woman  :  a  pro- 
gress so  far  as  the  dignitj-  of  woman  and  the  equality  of  the  sexes  are 
concerned. 

Duties  of  marriage. — The  duties  of  marriage  begin  before  marriage: 
to  be  prudent  in  the  choice  of  a  partner  ;  to  prefer  the  moral  interests 
to  the  material  interests. 

Mutual  duties  of  the  married  couple  :  fidelity  founded :  1,  on  a  free 
promise  ;  2,  on  the  very  idea  of  marriage. 

Duties  peculiar  to  the  husband  :  protection  of  the  family,  work,  etc. 

Celibacy  and  its  duties. 

Duties  of  parents  toward  children.— Of  the  rights  of  parents. — 
Basis  and  limits  of  the  paternal  authority. — Instituted  in  the  interest 
01  the  children,  it  is  limited  by  that  very  interest. 

Parents  have  not,  therefore,  1,  the  right  of  life  and  death  ;  2,  the  right 
to  strike  and  maltreat  ;  3,  the  right  to  sell  ;  4,  the  right  to  cori-upt. 

Duties  of  parents.— General  duty  of  affection  without  privileges  or 
preferences. — Duty  of  maintenance  and  education. — Decrease  of  par- 
ental responsibility  in  proportion  to  the  age  of  the  children. — Three 
periods  in  paternal  authority. 

Duties  of  children  respecting  their  parents  and  respecting  each 
other. — Filial  duty. — Fraternal  duty. 

Duties  of  masters  towards  their  servants. 

123.  The  family. — Tt  is  a  law  among  all  living  beings  to 
perpetuate  their  species.  This  law  is  among  animals  subject 
to  no  moral  law.  Yet  are  there  certain  species  where  between 
the  male  and  female  a  kind  of  society  is  estalilished  ;  and  Avith 
nearly  all  animals  the  attachment  of  the  mother  to  her  young, 


FAMILY   DUTIES.  191 

shows  itself  by  most  striking  and  toucliing  proofs.  But  this 
maternal  interest  does  not  usually  last  Leyond  the  time  neces- 
sary to  bring  up  the  little  ones  and  enable  them  to  provide  for 
themselves.  Beyond  this  time,  the  offspring  separate  and 
disperse.  They  live  their  own  Ufe ;  the  mother  knows  them 
no  longer.  As  to  the  father,  he  has  scarcely  ever  known 
them.  Such  are  the  domestic  ties  among  animals  :  and,  rude 
as  they  may  be,  one  cannot  help  already  recognizing  and 
admiring  in  them  the  anticipated  image  of  the  family. 

The  family  in  the  human  species  has  the  same  origin  and 
the  same  end  as  in  the  animal  species,  namely,  the  perpetua- 
tion of  the  species ;  but  in  the  former  it  is  exalted  and  ennobled 
by  additional  sentiments :  it  is  consecrated  and  sanctioned  by 
laws  of  duty  and  right  to  which  animals  are  absolutely  in- 
capable of  rising. 

If  we  consider  the  history  of  the  human  race,  we  see  the 
family  rise  progressively  from  a  certain  primitive  state,  which 
is  not  very  far  from  the  animal  promiscuity,  to  the  condition 
in  wliich  we  see  it  to-day  in  most  civilized  countries.  Among 
savage  nations,  marriages  have  little  stability  and  duration : 
they  are  as  easily  broken  as  formed.  Female  dignity  and 
modesty  are  scarcely  known  among  them :  woman  is  more  a 
slave  than  a  companion,  and  the  freedom  of  morals  has 
scarcely  any  limits.  Yet  is  there  no  society  where  marriages 
are  not  subject  to  some  sacred  or  civil  formalities,  which  shows 
that  savages,  ignorant  as  we  may  suppose  them  to  be,  have  a 
presentiment  of  duties  which,  under  favorable  circumstances, 
tend  to  purify  and  elevate  the  relations  of  the  sexes.  Later, 
in  other  societies,  marriages  take  a  more  regular  form  and  a 
more  fixed  character ;  yet,  admitting  polygamy,  more  or  less, 
as  among  the  ancients.  In  short,  many  circumstances  have 
presided  over  the  legal  relations  of  the  two  sexes,  before, 
through  the  natural  progress  of  morals  and  Christian  influence, 
monogamy  became  the  almost  universal  law  of  the  family  in 
civilized  countries. 

It  has  been  seen,  then,  that  as  the  moral  sentiment  became 


192  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

more  refined,  the  family,  as  it  exists  to-day,  became  more 
closely  related  to  the  State  ;  and  it  will  always  be  safer,  in 
order  to  establish  the  legitimacy  of  such  an  institution  and 
secure  for  it  due  respect,  to  depend  more  on  sentiment  than  on 
reasoning. 

Besides,  the  family  is  a  natural  result  of  the  necessary  rela- 
tions which  exist  between  mother,  father,  and  child. 

It  is  the  birth  of  the  children  which  is  the  end  and  raisoii 
d'etre  of  tlie  family. 

This  fact,  let  it  be  well  noted,  already  determines  between 
mother  and  child  a  relation  of  some  duration.  The  child  is 
altogether  unable  to  live  and  develop  alone.  The  mother 
owes  it  its  nourishment ;  and  nature,  having  herself  prepared 
for  the  child  in  the  breast  of  the  mother  the  sources  of  its 
subsistence  truly  indicated  thereby  that  they  should  be  bound 
to  each  other  by  a  positive  and  inevitable  tie.  It  is  true  the 
same  tie  exists  also  among  the  families  of  the  animals  and 
their  young  (at  least  with  mammalia);  and  we  have  seen  tliat 
there  exist  ainong  them  some  germs  of  family.  But  let  us 
not  forget  that  it  takes  only  a  little  time  for  the  young  of  the 
animal  species  to  reach  that  degree  of  strength  wliich  enables 
it  to  leave  its  mother  without  danger.  With  the  human 
species,  on  the  contrary,  it  takes  a  considerable  time.  Before 
the  first  or  second  year  the  child  is  unable  to  walk ;  when  it 
walks,  it  is  still  unable  to  walk  alone,  to  find  its  food,  to 
develop  in  any  way.  Imagine  a  child  two,  three,  five  years 
old,  abandoned  to  himself  in  a  desert  island :  he  would  die  of 
hunger.  Besides,  instinct  is  much  less  strong  in  man  than  in 
animalg,  and  much  less  certain ;  when  an  adult,  man  follows 
his  o\vn  reason ;  in  childhood  he  needs  the  reason  of  others. 
AVliat  shall  I  say  of  his  moral  education  and  intellectual  de- 
velopment ?  Tlie  child  needs  a  teacher  as  well  as  a  nurse. 
We  see  that  the  relations  between  mother  and  child  must 
naturally  be  prolonged  far  beyond  those  between  animals. 
The  first  natural  and  necessary  relations  will  finally  create  be- 
tween these  two  beings  habits  of  such  a  character  that  they 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  193 

will  never  more  separate,  even  when  they  can  do  without  each 
other.  At  least,  this  separation  will  not  take  place  before 
man  is  completely  man ;  and  although  son  and  daughter  may 
separate  from  the  family  to  become  in  their  turn  heads  of 
families,  there  will  always  exist  between  parents  and  children 
certain  ties,  certain  relations,  all  the  closer,  as  they  each  fol- 
low the  laws  of  nature.  In  short,  children  can  never  be  seen,  as 
is  the  case  in  the  animal  species,  becoming  complete  strangers 
to  their  father  and  mother. 

I  have  first  considered  the  tie  between  the  mother  and  the 
cliild,  l:)ecause  it  is  tlie  most  evident  and  the  most  necessary. 
]>ut  this  relation  is  not  the  only  one.  The  child,  we  have 
said,  needs  protection  for  a  long  time  :  does  the  mother's  pro- 
tection suffice  1  To  judge  from  the  way  woman  is  constituted, 
one  can  see  that  she  needs  protection  herself.  Her  weakness 
and  her  sex  expose  her  to  attacks ;  she  is  then  but  an  insuffi- 
cient protection  to  the  feeble  creature  she  is  united  to  by  so 
many  ties.  Therefore  must  the  family  have  a  protector ;  and 
who  should  be  the  natural  protector  of  the  child,  if  not  the 
father  1  of  the  wife,  if  not  the  husband  1  The  necessity  of 
protection  renders,  then,  man  indispensable  to  the  family. 
We  may  add  to  this,  the  necessity  of  subsistence.  Undoubt- 
edly the  mother  gives  the  child  its  first  nourishment;  but 
later  on,  the  common  means  of  subsistence  must  come  from 
work.  Now,  without  denying  that  woman  is  called  to  Avork 
the  same  as  man,  and  whilst  admitting  that  in  the  simple  and 
natural  state  she  is  very  much  stronger  than  in  the  civilized 
state,  it  must,  nevertheless,  be  admitted  that  woman,  in  gen- 
eral, is  less  fitted  for  work  than  man  ;  that  with  more  trouble, 
she  produces  less,  and  that  a  large  portion  of  her  life  is  neces- 
sarily taken  up  with  her  peculiar  cares.  Without  the  work  of 
the  head  of  the  family,  the  common  subsistence  would,  there- 
fore, be  imperiled. 

If  we  now  consider  the  education  of  the  children,  it  is  be- 
yond doubt  that  the  maternal  education  is  insufficient.  The 
mother  n^prcseiits  in  the  family,  love,  solicitude,  serviceableness. 


194  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

In  a  solid  education,  authority  shoidd  be  added  to  these.  It 
may  be  noticed  that  in  children  brought  up  by  one  of  the 
parents  only,  there  is  in  general  something  incomplete.  Those 
who  have  had  the  father  only,  lack  something  in  tenderness 
and  delicacy  of  feeling  which  the  graces  of  maternity  insen- 
sibly communicate  to  the  child ;  those  who  have  had  the 
mother  only,  are  lacking  in  discipline  and  solidity  of 
character :  they  are  capricious  and  of  a  more  passionate  will- 
fulness. Nature,  then,  appeals  to  the  joint  efforts  of  both 
father  and  mother  in  the  education  of  the  child.  Let  us  add 
now  that  this  close  tie,  Avhich  on  one  side  attaches  the  child  to 
the  mother  and  on  the  other  to  the  father,  should  also  attach 
parents  to  each  other,  far  beyond  the  first  and  transitory  tie 
which  first  joined  them.  United  in  a  common  undertaking, 
namely,  to  support  and  educate  the  being  they  have  brought 
into  the  world — it  is  impossible  that  they  should  not  continue 
to  be  more  and  more  closely  united. 

124.  Family  duties. — This  is  the  natural  history  of  the 
family.  It  was  probably  in  a  similar  manner,  with  many 
vicissitudes,  that  it  gradually  formed  and  then  became  trans- 
formed. Let  us  noAV  see  how  out  of  this  association,  founded 
by  instincts,  interests,  and  circumstances,  the  principle  of 
duty  makes  a  sacred  and  indissoluble  institution. 

There  can  be  distinguished  in  the  family  four  kinds  of  rela- 
tions, Avhence  spring  four  classes  of  duties  : 

1.  The  relations  between  the  husband  and  wife. 

2.  The  relations  of  parents  to  children. 

3.  The  relations  of  children  to  parents. 

4.  The  relations  of  children  to  each  other. 

Whence  conjugal  duty,  paternal  or  maternal  duty,  filial 
duty,  and  fraternal  duty. 

To  these  four  relations,  there  may  be  added  a  fifth :  that  of 
the  head  of  a  family  to  his  servants. 

125.  Duties  of  marriage. — The  duties  of  marriage  begin 
before  marriage  :  they  begin  with  the  nmtual  choice  of  the 
man  and  the  woman.     For  the  woman,  it  usually  happens,  at 


FAMILY   DUTIES.  195 

least  in  our  society  [in  France],  tliat  the  clioice  is  determined 
by  the  parents.  The  responsihility,  then,  falls  upon  them. 
Now,  this  choice  should  not  be  made  lightly  and  foolishly.  It 
should  be  determined  by  a  serious  and  noble  conception  of  the 
duties  and  end  of  marriage. 

"  Marriage,"  our  Code  admirably  says,  "  is  an  association 
between  man  and  woman,  to  share  the  pleasures  and  bear  in 
common  the  trials  of  life."  * 

Marriage  is,  therefore,  a  compact  entirely  moral  :  it  is  not 
only  a  union  of  bodies  or  fortunes,  it  is  a  union  of  souls.  Life 
in  common  and  indissoluble,  with  all  its  possible  accidents,  is 
too  heavy  a  burden  to  be  left  to  chance.  A  man  should 
think  not  only  of  his  own  happiness,  but  also  of  that  of  the 
woman  whom  he  associates  with  his  destiny ;  if  he  does  not 
consider  himself  strong  enough  to  fulfill  toward  her  all  the 
duties  which  such  a  connection  imposes  on  him,  he  should 
not  unite  her  to  himself  by  indissoluble  vows ;  if  he  does 
not  think  that  he  can  love  and  respect  her  all  through  life, 
let  him  spare  himself  and  her  a  life-long  misery.  We  may 
see  by  this  how  important  in  conjugal  union  are  a  harmony 
of  character,  a  just  and  mutual  esteem,  and  an  enlfghtened 
affection.  To  marry  rashly  and  too  hastily,  and  thus  to  risk 
future  happiness,  is  already  failing  in  a  first  dut3^  One 
should,  therefore,  not  rely  too  implicitly  upon  indifiercnt  or 
interested  go-betweens. 

It  is  said,  indeed,  that  there  is  no  way  of  knowing  with 
certainty  the  character  and  sincerity  of  men.  ^lany  a  one  who 
in  society  appears  amiable  and  estimable,  is  perhaps,  in  private 
life,  selfish  and  tyrannical ;  women,  it  is  said,  moreover,  are 
particularly  skilled,  even  when  young,  in  assuming  qualities 
which  they  do  not  possess,  and  in  disguising  their  faults  ; 
that  if  one  were  constantly  scrutinizing  and  distrusting,  mar- 
riage would  be  impossible ;  for  the  most  sagacious  are  deceived 

*  Montaigne  thus  expressed  himself  in  regard  to  man-iage  :  "  A  good  marriage  is  a 
sweet  society  for  life,  full  of  constancy,  troubles,  and  an  infinite  number  of  useful 
and  substantial  services  and  mutual  obligations." 


19G  ELEMENTS    OF   MOKALS. 

in  them,  etc.,  etc.  All  this,  to  a  certain  extent,  is  true;  and 
there  could  be  nothing  done  without  some  sort  of  confidence ; 
but  this  confidence,  when  it  is  the  result  of  precaution  and 
prudence,  is  miich  less  often  deceived  than  satirists  would 
have  it.  Besides,  if  there  be  room  for  deception,  even  after  a 
reasonably  long  intimacy,  the  chances  are  at  least  better  than 
they  would  he  if  the  parties  were  to  rush  headlong  into  a 
future  absolutely  unknown  to  them. 

Another  grave  error  is  that  of  seeing  in  marriage  nothing 
but  a  union  of  fortunes  and  names. 

It  is  bringing  what  in  reality  is  the  noblest  and  most 
delicate  of  contracts,  down  to  a  simple  commercial  act.  Cer- 
tainly one  should  not  propose  to  the  inexperience  of  young 
people  the  union  of  two  poverties,  as  an  ideal :  it  is  well 
known  that  poverty  is  much  harder  to  bear  when  one  has  to 
share  it  with  a  wife  and  children,  than  alone.  But  whilst  in 
certain  classes  of  society  marriage  could  scarcely  be  possible 
otherwise  (workingmen  having  no  capital  to  back  their  mar- 
riage contracts),  the  classes  that  have  some  competency  should 
not  make  property  the  first  consideration  ;  character,  mind, 
and  merit  should  by  far  outweigh  it. 

We  distinguish  generally  two  kinds  of  marriages  :  the 
reason-marriages  (inariages  de  reason)  and  the  inclination 
marriages  ;  and  much  has  been  said  for  and  against  both. 
These  are  questions  wliich  will  never  be  solved,  ])ecause  expe- 
rience shows  that  they  are  mostly  dependent  on  circumstances. 
It  may  be  said  that,  as  a  principle,  the  true  marriage  is  the 
marriage  based  on  inclination  enlightened  by  reason.  Wliat 
experience  and  wisdom  condemn,  are  the  foolish  inclinations 
■ — those,  for  example,  that  take  no  account  of  age,  education, 
social  surroundings,  necessities  of  life.  These  sorts  of  pas- 
sion scarcely  ever  stand  the  test  of  time  and  circumstances, 
and  are  generally  followed  by  a  painful  reaction.  "  There  is," 
says  La  BruyJ^re,  "  hardly  any  other  reason  for  loving  no  longer, 
than  to  have  loved  too  much."  But  inclination  is  not  always 
unreasonable  ;  and  when  it  can  be  reconciled  with  the  counsels 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  197 

of  wisdom,  which  is  no  rare  thing,  it  is  better  than  cold 
reason,  and  answers  better  to  the  purpose  of  marriage  :  it  is  a 
surer  guaranty  of  its  dignity  and  happiness. 

A  wise  moralist,  Mr.  Adolphe  Gamier,  makes  a  very  reason- 
able reply  to  those  who  pretend  that  inclination  disappears 
very  fast  in  marriage:  "We  reply,"  he  says,  "that  inclination 
will  at  least  have  formed  a  true  marriage  whilst  it  lasted.  It 
will  leave  for  all  the  rest  of  life  a  remembrance  of  the  first 
years,  which  shall  have  been  purified,  ennobled,  sanctified  by 
this  heart-affection.  This  remembrance  will  sweeten  more 
than  one  bitter  moment,  will  prevent  more  than  one  anguish. 
Duty  will  be  sustained  by  a  remembrance  of  past  happiness."* 

The  marriage  once  made,  we  have  to  consider,  one  after  the 
other,  the  duties  of  the  husband  and  those  of  the  wife.  There 
are  some  they  have  in  common,  and  others  which  belong  to 
the  particular  part  each  plays  in  the  household. 

The  duty  which  the  husband  and  wife  have  in  common,  is 
fidelity.  This  duty  is  based  on  the  very  nature  of  marriage, 
as  also  upon  a  mutual  promise. 

Let  us  begin  by  this  latter  consideration.  Marriage,  such 
as  it  is  instituted  in  civilized  or  Christian  countries,  is  monog- 
amy, or  marriage  of  one  man  with  one  woman  (except  in  cases 
of  decease).  Such  is  the  state  one  binds  one's  self  to  in  enter- 
ing the  marriage  relation  :  one  accepts  thereby  the  obligation 
of  an  inviolable  fidelity.  If  then  a  promise  is  sacred  in  respect 
to  material  goods,  how  much  more  sacred  is  the  promise 
between  hearts,  and  this  mutual  gift  of  soul  to  soul,  which 
constitutes  the  dignity  of  marriage  !  Conjugal  fidelity  is,  then, 
a  duty  of  honor,  a  veritable  debt. 

But  fidelity  is  not  only  the  obligatory  result  of  a  prom- 
ise, of  a  given  word ;  it  is  also  the  result  of  the  very  idea  of 
marriage,  and  marriage  in  its  turn  results  from  the  nature  of 
things. 

IMarriage  was  instituted  to  save  the  dignity  of  woman. 
Experience,    in    fact,    teaches    us    that    wherever    j)olygamy 

'  Ad.  Garnicr.  Morale  sociale  I.,  ii.,  p.  101. 


198  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

exists,  woman  is  not  far  from  being  man's  slave.  Man,  divid- 
ing his  affections  between  several  women,  cannot  love  each 
one  with  that  refinement  and  constancy  wliich  render  her 
his  equal.  How  could  there  exist  between  a  master  and 
several  slaves  vying  for  liis  looks  and  caprices,  that  intimacy, 
that  mutual  sharing  of  good  and  evil  wherein  the  moral 
beauty  of  marriage  consists  1  It  is  quite  evident  that  equality 
between  man  and  woman  cannot  exist  where  the  latter  is 
obhged  to  share  Avith  others  the  common  good  of  conjugal 
affection. 

Hence  the  institution  of  marriage  which  was  established  in 
tlie  interest  of  the  woman,  and  which  is  the  protection  of  the 
weaker  party.  It  evidently  follows  that,  on  her  side,  she  is 
held  to  the  same  fidelity  which  she  has  a  right  to  demand. 
Conjugal  infidelity,  on  whichever  side  it  occurs,  is  then  a  dis- 
guised polygamy,  and,  moreover,  an  irregular  and  capricious 
polygamy,  very  inferior  to  the  legal ;  for  this  recognizes  at 
least  certain  rules,  and  establishes  with  precision  the  condition 
of  the  several  Avives.  But  adultery  destroys  all  regular  and 
fixed  relations  between  the  married  couple  ;  it  introduces  into 
marriage  the  open  or  clandestine  usurpation  of  sworn  rights; 
it  tends  to  re-establish  the  primitive  and  savage  state,  where  the 
coming  together  of  the  sexes  depended  on  chance  and  caprice. 

Fidelity  is  for  the  married  couple  a  common  and  reciprocal 
duty.  Each,  besides,  has  peculiar  duties.  We  shall  lay  par- 
ticular stress  on  those  of  the  husband.  The  first  of  all,  wliich 
carries  with  it  all  others,  is  prutedlun. 

"  Man,  being  the  head  of  the  family,  is  its  natural  protector. 
He  holds  his  authority  from  the  laws  and  from  usage.  More- 
(jver,  it  results  from  the  very  nature  of  things  :  for  between 
two  persons,  even  perfectly  united,  it  is  difficult,  it  is  impos- 
sible, to  meet  with  a  constant  uniformity  of  views,  sentiments, 
and  wishes.  There  must  be,  then,  a  determining  voice  ;  one 
of  the  two  persons  sharing  in  common  domestic  authority, 
must  have  the  privilege  of  superior  authority.  Xow,  what 
are  the  titles  to  this  superior  authority  ?      These  titles  are 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  199 

strength  and  reason.  Evidently,  power  in  the  family  belongs 
by  right  to  him  Avho  is  strong  enough  to  defend  it  and  reason- 
able enough  to  exercise  it. 

But  this  authority  woidd  only  be  an  insupportable  privilege 
if  man  pretended  to  exercise  it  without  doing  any  thing,  with- 
out returning  to  the  family  in  the  form  of  security  what  it 
pays  him  in  respect  and  obedience.  Work  is  the  first  duty 
of  man  as  head  of  the  family.  This  is  true  of  all  classes  of 
society,  as  well  of  those  who  live  upon  their  income,  as  of 
those  who  live  by  their  work.  For  the  first  have  to  make 
themselves  worthy  of  the  fortune  they  have  received  by  noble 
occupations,  or,  at  least,  by  preserving  it  and  making  it  bear 
fruit  through  a  wise  management :  and  the  second  have,  I  do 
not  say,  a  fortune  to  acquire,  which  is  an  aim  rarely  attained, 
but  they  have  a  far  more  pressing  object  before  them,  namely, 
the  livelihood  of  those  who  live  under  their  protection."* 

No  one  has  better  depicted,  and  in  a  more  delicate  and 
sensible  manner,  the  common  duties  of  husbands  and  wives 
than  Xenophon.  who  in  this  particular  is  a  worthy  pupil  of 
Socrates,  the  one  of  all  the  ancient  sages  who  best  understood 
the  duties  of  the  family.  Socrates  relates  in  the  following 
terms  the  conversation  of  Ischomachus  and  his  wife, — a  young 
married  pair, — in  Avhich  the  husband  instructs  his  wife  in 
domestic  duties. 

"  WTien  she  had  become  more  familiar  with  me,  and  a  closer 
connection  had  emboldened  her  to  speak  freely,  I  put  to  her 
something  like  the  following  questions :  '  Tell  me,  my  wife, 
dost  thou  begin  to  understand  why  I  have  chosen  thee,  and 
why  thy  parents  have  given  thee  to  me  ?  .  .  .  If  the  gods 
give  u*  children,  we  must  consult  with  each  other  and  do  our 
best  in  bringing  them  up  :  for  it  will  be  a  happiness  for  both 
of  us  to  find  in  them  the  protectors  and  support  of  our  old  age. 
But  from  this  day  on,  all  that  is  in  this  hoiise  is  ours  in  com- 
mon; what  is  mine  is  thine,  and  thou  hast  thyself  already  put 

*  See  our  book,  Ln  FamiUe,  3d  lecture.  We  take  the  liberty  to  refer  the  reader  to 
this  book  for  the  development  of  the  subject. 


200  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

in  common  all  that  thou  hast  brought.  "Wo  luxvo  but  to 
count  which  has  brought  most ;  but  we  must  well  remember 
one  thing,  and  that  is,  that  it  will  be  the  one  of  us  two  who 
Avill  best  manage  the  common  property  that  shall  have 
brought  the  most  valuable  share  of  capital.' 

"To  this,  my  wife  replied:  'In  what  can  I  assist  thee? 
^Miat  am  I  able  to  do  ?  ^Vll  depends  on  thee.  My  mother 
told  me  that  my  task  was  to  conduct  myself  w^eU.' — '  Yes,  by 
Jupiter ! '  I  replied,  '  and  my  father  also  told  me  the  same 
thing  ;  but  it  is  the  duty  of  a  weU-behaving  cou[)le  so  to  be- 
have that  they  may  be  as  prosperous  as  possible,  that  by  hon- 
est and  just  means  they  may  add  new  goods  to  those  they 
have.  The  gods,  forsooth,  did  well  when  they  coupled  man 
with  woman  for  the  greatest  utility  of  mankind.  The  interest 
of  the  family  and  house  demands  work  Avithout  and  within. 
Xow  the  gods,  from  the  first,  adapted  the  nature  of  Avoman 
for  the  cares  and  the  works  of  the  interior,  and  that  of  man 
for  the  cares  and  the  Avorks  of  the  exterior.      Cold,  heat, 

travels,  Avar,  man  is  so  constituted  as  to  l)e  able  to  bear  all : 

J 
on  the  other  hand,  the  gods  haA'e  given  to  Avoinan  the  inclina- 
tion and  mission  to  nurse  her  offspring  ;  it  is  also  she  Avho  is 
in  charge  of  the  provisions,  Avdrilst  man's  care  is  to  ward  off 
all  that  could  injure  the  household. 

'"As  neither  is  by  nature  perfect  in  all  points,  they  neces- 
sarily need  each  other ;  and  their  union  is  all  the  more  useful, 
as  Avhat  the  one  lacks  may  be  supplied  by  the  other.  There- 
fore, 0  wife,  it  behooves  us,  Avhen  instructed  regarding  the 
functions  the  gods  have  assigned  to  each  of  us,  to  endeavor  to 
acquit  ourselves  the  best  Ave  can  of  those  that  are  incumbent 
on  l)oth.  .« 

"  '  Thrrc  is,  however,'  I  said,  '  one  function  of  thine  Avhich 
will  please  thee  least,  and  that  is,  that  if  any  one  of  thy  slaves 
should  sicken,  thou,  by  the  cares  due  to  all,  shouldst  Avatch 
over  Ids  or  her  recovery.'  '  By  Jupiter,'  said  my  Avife,  'noth- 
ing Avill  please  me  more,  since,  recovering  by  my  care,  they 
A\ill  be  OTateful  to  nie  and  show  me  still  more  affection  than 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  201 

in  the  pact.'  This  answer  delighted  me,"  continued  Ischo- 
machus,  and  I  said  to  her  :  '  Thou  shalt  have  other  cares 
more  agreeable,  namely,  when  of  an  unskilled  slave  thou 
shalt  make  a  good  spinner ;  when  of  an  ignorant  steward  or 
stewardess,  thou  shalt  make  a  capable,  devoted,  intelligent 
servant.  But  the  sweetest  charm  shall  be,  when,  more  perfect 
than  I,  thou  shalt  have  made  me  thy  servant ;  when,  instead 
of  fearing  old  age,  lest  it  deprive  thee  of  thy  influence  in  thy 
household,  thou  shalt  have  gained  the  assurance  that  in  grow- 
ing old  thou  becomest  for  me  a  still  better  companion,  for  thy 
children  a  still  better  housekeeper,  for  thy  household  a  still 
more  honored  mistress.  For  beauty  and  goodness  do  not  de- 
pend on  youth  :  they  increase  tlirough  life  in  the  eyes  of  men, 
by  means  of  virtues.'  "  * 

We  shall  say  a  few  words,  without  laying  greater  stress 
than  necessary,  about  a  question  often  debated,  namely,  that 
of  the  dissolution  of  marriage  or  divorce.  "We  may  observe, 
on  this  subject,  with  an  excellent  moralist,!  Avhom  we  have 
already  cited,  that  as  marriage  becomes  purer,  its  dissolution 
Avill  become  more  and  more  diflicult.  In  former  days,  the 
first  aspect  of  the  conjugal  relation  showed  the  husband  to  be 
the  master  of  the  woman  ;  he  bought  her  and  sent  her  again 
away  as  he  would  a  slave — he  had  the  right  of  repudiation. 
Later  on,  he  could  no  longer  senil  her  away  from  him  -without 
asking  the  law  to  pronounce  a  divorce  ;  but  he  was  at  first 
alone  in  claiming  this  right.  'Next,  Avoman  obtained  the  same 
right  in  her  turn.  At  last  divorce  was  suppressed,  at  least  in 
some  States,  and  particularly  in  our  country ;  J  and  we  think, 
with  the  moralist  quoted  above,  that  tliis  is  the  true  road  to 
progress. 

An  English  moralist  §  has  justly  s;iid  :  "  If  love  is  a  passion 
which  a  trifle  may  start  and  a  trifle  kill,  friendship  is  a  calm 
affection  cemented  by  reason  and  Iialnt.     It  bi-comes  stronger 

*  Xenophon. .  +  A.  Gamier,  Morale  sociale. 

t  The  law  of  divorce  has  since  been  passed  again  in  France.— [Transl.] 
§  David  Huini',  Esuays. 


302  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

by  rule,  and  it  is  never  so  strong  as  when  two  persons  unite 
in  the  pursuit  of  a  common  interest.  How  many  slight  annoy- 
ances will  they  not  endeavor  to  overlook,  out  of  prudence,  if  they 
are  obliged  to  live  with  each  other,  and  which,  with  the  pros- 
pect of  an  easy  separation,  would  be  allowed  to  fester  even  to 
aversion  !"  It  is  a  duty  for  the  individual  conscience,  even 
though  divorce  should  be  legally  permitted,  to  consider  mar- 
riage absolutely  indissoluble,  or  at  least  make  it  a  last  resort ; 
it  is,  above  all,  a  strict  duty,  in  contracting  a  marriage,  not  to 
look  to  divorce  as  a  hope  and  end. 

Some  moralists  have  asked  whether  marriage  was  a  duty. 
"We  do  not  hesitate  to  answer  in  the  negative  ;*  that  it  is  not 
a  duty  in  the  case  of  women  is  evident,  since  it  is  their  lot  not 
to  choose  themselves,  but  to  be  chosen  ;  now  it  does  not  always 
depend  on  them  to  find  some  one  to  choose  them ;  and  if  it 
is  not  an  obligation  for  one  of  the  two  sexes,  it  would  be 
strange  if  it  were  one  for  the  other,  fce^ides,  the  right  of 
celibacy  cannot  be  denied  to  one  who  gives  up  family  life  to 
devote  himself  to  works  of  charity,  as  in  the  religious  orders, 
and  if  this  be  a  sufficient  reason,  there  are  many  more  of  the 
same  kind  which  might  -sanction  the  same  conduct :  as,  for 
example,  devotion  to  science  or  the  country.  If  it  be  objected 
that  every  one  owes  himself  to  the  preservation  of  the  race, 
and  that  if  no  one  married  the  race  Avould  perish,  we  can  reply 
that  there  will  always  be  men  ready  enough  to  marry,  so  that 
no  such  consequences  need  be  feared. 

But  the  liberty  of  celibacy  can  be  granted  by  the  moral  law 
on  two  conditions  only :  the  first,  tliat  it  be  based  on  serious 

*  A  great  German  moralist,  Fichte,  denies,  however,  people  having  a  right  to  volun- 
tarily and  systematically  renounee  marriage  :  "  An  unmarried  person,"  he  says,  "  is 
but  half  a  person.  A  fixed  resolution  not  to  marry  is  absolutely  contrary  to  duty. 
Not  to  marry  is,  without  its  being  one's  fault,  a  great  misfortune  ;  but  not  to  marry 
through  one's  fault  is  a  great  fault  {Durch  seine  Schidd,  eine  grosse  Schuld).  It  is 
not  permitted  to  sacrifice  this  end  to  other  ends,  even  where  the  service  of  the 
Church,  or  family  or  State  duties,  or,  in  fine,  the  repose  of  a  contemplative  life,  are 
concerned  ;  for  there  is  no  higher  end  for  man  than  to  be  a  complete  man."  There 
is  much  truth  in  these  words  of  Fichte,  yet  may  we  be  permitted  to  think  that  his 
doctrine  in  this  respect  is  pushed  to  excess,  as  well  as  that  which  forbids  second 
marriages. 


FAMILY  DUTIES.  203 

reasons  and  not  on  selfishness ;  namely,  that  there  be  good 
reasons  to  believe  that  one  could  render  more  service  in  that 
state  than  in  an  imprudently  contracted  marriage.  The  second 
condition,  that  celibacy  does  not  interfere  with  purity  of 
morals — the  relations  between  the  sexes  being,  in  fact,  only 
proper  and  legitimate  in  marriage. 

The  relations  between  the  sexes  outside  of  marriage  can 
only  be  adultery,  seduction,  or  licentiousness.  In  the  first 
case,  the  Avoman  is  induced  to  violate  her  duties,  her  vows,  to 
give  up  all  that  alone  can  guarantee  her  dignity.  In  the 
second,  the  honor  and  dignity  of  a  whole  Life  is  sacrificed  to 
passion ;  in  the  third,  you  make  yourself  an  accomplice  to  a 
public  and  deliberate  shame — a  shame  which  would  not  exist 
except  for  just  such  accomplices.  At  any  rate,  the  dignity 
of  the  woman — that  is  to  say,  of  the  weaker  sex — is  sacrificed 
to  the  passion  of  the  stronger. 

126.  Duties  of  parents  toward  their  childpen.  —  An 
English  philosopher  said  :  "  Such  a  one  is  the  father  of  such  a 
one ;  hence  he  is  his  master,"  and  he  claims  that  paternal 
authority  was  thus  based  on  the  authority  of  mastership. 

This  is  a  profound  error.  In  the  first  place,  no  man  can  be 
absolutely  the  master  of  another  man,  unless  that  other  be  a 
slave  :  there  can  only  exist  relations  of  obedience  or  allegiance, 
required  by  social  necessity,  but  which  do  not  permit  any 
man  to  be  in  absolute  dependence  upon  another.  The  rela- 
tion between  father  and  child  is,  it  is  true,  of  a  particular 
kind;  but  it  is  not  any  more  than  the  other  the  authority  of 
a  master  over  his  slave,  or  of  a  proprietor  over  his  property. 

Let  us  look  into  its  oiigin,  and  we  shall  find,  at  the  same 
time,  the  extent  and  the  limits  of  paternal  authority. 

To  begin  with,  Ave  Avill  observe  that,  although  usage  has  con- 
secrated the  term  paternal  authority  as  meaning  the  authority 
exercised  by  parents  over  children,  this  authority  includes 
the  rights  of  both ;  of  the  mother  as  aa'cU  as  of  the  father : 
1,  in  default  of  the  father,  in  case  of  absence  or  death,  the 
mother  has  over  the  child  exactly  the  same  authority  as  the 


204  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

father  ;  2,  it  is  an  absolute  duty  with  parents  to  see  that  there 
be  not,  in  regard  to  their  cliildren,  two  separate  authorities  in 
tlie  house,  two  kinds  of  contradictory  orders ;  in  the  eyes  of 
the  child  there  should  be  but  one  and  the  same  authority,  ex- 
ercised by  two  persons,  but  essentially  indivisible ;  3,  in  cases 
of  conflict,  the  will  of  the  father  should  prevail,  unless  the  law 
interfere ;  but  the  father  should  use  such  a  privilege  only  as  a 
last  resort,  and  where  it  can  be  made  evident  that  it  is  in  the 
interest  of  the  child.  Even' then  he  should  see  that  the 
obedience  to  one  of  the  parents  be  no  disobedience  to  the 
other,  for  that  would  be  destroying  at  its  root  the  very  author- 
ity he  makes  use  of. 

Paternal  authority  is,  then,  the  common  authority  of  both 
parents  over  their  children  ;  and  it  is  only  an  exception  to  the 
rule  when  the  authority  of  one  parent  becomes  detrimental  to 
that  of  the  other. 

What  is  now  the  principle  of  this  authority  ?  A  purely 
physical  reason  is  given  for  it ;  that  the  child,  namely,  is  in 
some  respect  a  part  of  the  parents.  But  this  reason  is  not 
sufficient ;  for  it  would  presuppose  paternal  authority  to  last 
all  through  life  under  the  same  conditions  and  same  degree  of 
force ;  Avhereas  it  continues  ever  diminishing  as  the  child  be- 
comes able  to  govern  himself. 

The  true  reason  for  paternal  or  maternal  authority  lies  in  the 
feebleness  of  the  child,  in  its  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral 
inca])acity.  The  cliild  in  comi:ig  into  tlie  world  is  utterly  in- 
capable of  doing  for  itself.  Suj)posing  even  that  it  could 
siitisfy  its  physical  wants,  experience  shows  that  it  could*  not 
give  itself  an  education,  without  which  it  cannot  be  truly  a 
uian.  This  state  of  feebleness  requires,  then,  indispensable 
assistance,  and  an  assistance  of  long  duration.  It  needs  a  hand 
to  support  and  feed  it,  a  heart  to  love  it,  an  intelligence  to  en- 
lighten it.  To  whom  belongs  this  Tole  of  educator,  protector, 
sustainer?  "There  have  been  some  who  have  wished  to  take 
tlie  child  from  the  family  to  give  it  to  the  State;  this  is  a 
great  error;    fur  the  child  idiould  evidently  Ijeluiig  to  those 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  205 

Avitliout  whom  lie  would  have  no  existence.  In  the  first  place, 
it  were  burdening  society  with  a  thing  it  is  not  responsible 
for;  moreover,  it  has  no  right  upon  the  child,  no  particular 
tie  existing  between  them ;  finally,  it  offers  no  sufficient 
guaranty,  and  there  can  be  at  best  expected  of  it  but  a  vague 
and  general  solicitude,  if,  indeed,  the  same  is  not  a  partial 
one,  and  in  favor  of  those  from  whom  it  may  derive  most  ad- 
vantages ;  whilst  parents  should  unquestionably  have  charge 
of  the  child,  since  it  is  through  them  it  exists  ;  and  having 
charge  of  it,  gives  them  a  right  to  it :  and  how  could  they  be 
responsible  for  this  being  they  have  given  life  to,  if  they  could 
not  in  some  measure  dispose  of  it  1  There  are  three  ties  be- 
tv.-een  the  parents  and  the  child :  a  physical  bond,  a  heart- 
Ijond,  a  reason-bond  :  no  other  authority  rests  on  more  natural 
principles;  none  is  more  necessary,  none  is  protected  by 
greater  guarantees."  * 

jSTot  only  Avould  the  State,  in  taking  possession  of  the  child, 
encumber  itself  with  functions  for  the  performance  of  which 
it  is  unfitted,  but  it  would  also  violate  the  natural  rights  of 
the  human  heart.  Parents  are,  then,  invested  by  nature  her- 
self, with  the  duty  of  supporting  and  educating  their  children. 
But  this  duty  calls  for  authority.  How  could  a  father  and 
mother  direct  the  child  in  the  path  of  right  and  justice  ;  how 
could  they  impart  to  it  their  wisdom  and  experience;  how 
could  they  prepare  the  way  for  its  becoming  in  its  turn  a 
moral  agent — one,  namely,  that  acts  and  governs  himself  of 
his  own  accord — if  they  are  not  at  the  same  time  invested 
with  the  authority  that  commands  obedience  ? 

Paternal  authority,  as  we  see  by  this,  has  no  other  origin 
than  t]ie  actual  interest  of  the  child :  tlie  mission  of  the 
parents  is  to  represent  it ;  they  have  in  some  respect  the 
government  of  its  life.  The  whole  authority  of  the  father 
upon  the  child  is,  then,  limited  by  the  interests  and  the  rights 
of  the  child  itself.     Beyond  Avhat  may  be  useful  to  its  physical 

*  La  Famillc.     -Itli  Lecture. 


206  ELEMEXTS    OF    MOEALS. 

and  moral  existence,  the  father  can  do  nothing.    Such  are  tho 
extent  and  limits  of  his  authority. 
From  these  principles  we  deduce  : 

1.  That  parents  have  now  no  right  of  life  and  death  upon 
their  children  as  they  have  had  under  certain  legislations. 

2.  That  they  have  neither  the  right  to  strike  them,  maUreat 
them,  wound  them — in  short,  treat  them  as  they  would  animals 
or  things ;  and  although  usage  appears  to  allow  certain  cor- 
poreal punishments,  it  will  always  be  a  bad  example  and  a 
bad  habit  to  use  blows  as  a  means  of  education. 

3.  Parents  have  no  right  to  traffic  with  the  liberty  of  their 
sons,  to  sell  them  as  slaves  as  in  ancient  times,  or  to  turn 
them  into  instruments  of  gain,  as  in  many  families  even  to 
this  day.  Certainly  one  could  not  wholly  forbid  a  father  to 
inake  a  child  work  toward  the  support  of  the  family,  but  it 
must  be  done  without  losing  sight  of  the  child's  strength, 
and  without  sacrificing  its  intellectual  and  moral  education. 

4.  Parents  have  no  right  to  corrupt  their  children,  by  mak- 
ing them  accomplices  in  their  own  profligacy. 

Grotius  justly  distinguishes  three  periods  in  paternal  author- 
ity :*  the  first,  when  the  children  have  as  yet  no  discernment, 
and  are  not  capable  of  acting  with  full  knowledge ;  the  sec- 
ond, when  their  judgment,  being  already  ripe,  they  are  still 
members  of  the  family  and  have  no  business  of  their  own ; 
the  last,  when  they  have  left  their  father's  house,  either  to 
become  heads  of  families  themselves,  or  to  enter  into  another. 
In  the  first  of  these  conditions,  the  will  of  the  parents  is  en- 
tirely substituted  for  that  of  the  children,  and  their  authority, 
within  the  limits  above  stated,  is  consequently  absolute.  In 
the  third  case,  the  son,  having  reached  his  n\ajority  or  matur- 
ity, has  conquered  for  himself  an  independent  Avill ;  paternal 
authority  must  consequently  change  into  moral  influence, 
which  a  grateful  son  will  respect,  but  which  is  no  longer,  prop- 
erly so  called,  an  authority.    Finally,  in  the  intermediate  state. 

*  Du  droit  dc  la  guciTC  et  de  la  paix,  I.,  II.  cli.  v.  §  2. 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  207 

which  is  the  most  difficult  of  all,  the  paternal  will,  whilst  re- 
maining preponderant,  yields  more  and  more  to  the  will  of 
the  chddren,  thereby  preparing  it  toward  becoming  sufficient 
to  itself. 

Let  us  examine  the  duties  of  the  parents  at  these  different 
periods  of  paternal  authority. 

There  is,  to  begin  with,  a  general  duty,  which  overrides  the 
whole  life  of  the  parents  as  well  as  of  the  children,  and  Avhich 
is  independent  of  the  latter's  age :  it  is  the  duty  of  love.  Par- 
ents must  love  their  children;  it  is  the  foundation  of  all  the  rest. 
It  may  perhaps  be  objected  that  love  is  a  natural  feeling  and 
cannot  be  a  duty ;  that  the  heart  is  not  subject  to  the  will ; 
that  one  may  love  or  not  love,  according  as  one  is  by  nature 
so  constituted ;  that  duty  therefore  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
It  is  also  said  that  paternal  or  maternal  love  is  so  natural  a 
sentiment  that  it  is  useless  to  make  a  duty  of  it. 

These  arguments  do  not  appear  to  us  decisive ;  and  we 
have  already  answered  them.  We  cannot,  of  course,  create 
within  ourselves  sentiments  which  do  not  already  exist.  But 
Ave  can  cultivate  or  allow  to  die  out  sentiments  which  do  exist 
within  us  naturally.  The  degree  of  sensibility  in  each  indi- 
vidual depends,  I  admit,  on  liis  or  her  peculiar  constitution  of 
mind  and  heart;  but  it  depends  on  us  to  reach  the  highest 
degree  of  sensibdity  we  are  capable  of.  For  example,  he  who 
leaves  his  children  or  removes  them  from  him  (unless  it  be 
for  their  good*)  may  be  certain  that  the  love  he  bears  them 
will  insensibly  die  out.  He,  on  the  contrary,  who  takes  the 
trouble  to  busy  himself  with  his  children,  to  win  their  love  by 
intelligent  and  constant  attentions,  will  necessarily  feel  his 
heart  grow  softer  by  this  intercourse,  and  his  natural  feelings 
will  gain  more  and  more  strength. 

But  if  it  is  a  duty  to  love  one's  chddren,  it  is  also  in  conse- 
quence of  this  duty  that  one  should  love  them  for  themselves, 
and  not  for  one's  self.     It  is  not  our  happiness  we  should  seek 

*  And  that  may  be  questioned. 


208  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

in  our  children,  but  theirs  ;  and  for  this  reason  does  it  some- 
times become  necessary  to  govern  one's  own  sensibiHty,  and 
deny  children  pleasures  detrimental  to  their  best  interests. 
The  excess  of  tenderness  is  often,  as  has  been  said,  but  a  want 
of  tenderness ;  it  is  a  sort  of  delicate  selfishness,  shrinking 
from  the  pain  the  seeming  suffering  of  the  children  might  in- 
flict, and  not  knowing  how  to  refuse  them  any  thing  for  fear 
of  displeasing  them,  prepares  for  them  in  this  manner  cruel 
deceptions  against  the  time  when  they  will  have  to  face  the 
sad  realities  of  life. 

A  corollary  of  what  precedes,  is  that  the  father  should  love 
all  his  children  equally,  and  guard  against  showing  a  prefer- 
ence. He  should  have  no  favorites  among  them,  still  less 
victims.  He  should  not,  from  feelings  of  family  pride,  prefer 
the  boys  to  the  girls,  or  the  oldest  to  the  youngest.  He 
should  not  even  yield  to  the  natural  predilection  which  in- 
clines us  to  give  our  preference  to  the  most  amiable,  the  most 
intelligent,  the  most  attractively  endowed.  It  has  often  been 
observed  that  mothers  have  a  particular  tenderness  for  the 
feeblest  of  their  children,  or  those  that  have  given  most 
trouble.     If  preference  is  at  all  justifiable  it  is  in  this  case. 

After  having  established  the  general  principle  of  the  duties 
of  the  head  of  a  family,  namely,  love,  and  an  equal  love,  for 
all  his  children,  let  us  consider  the  particular  duties  this  gen- 
eral duty  comprises.  They  bear  upon  two  principal  points : 
the  preservation  and  the  education  of  the  children. 

We  have  seen  that  the  fact  of  giving  life  to  children,  carries 
with  it  as  an  inevitable  consequence  the  duty  of  preserv- 
ing it  to  them.  The  child  not  being  able  to  provide  its  own 
food,  the  parents  must  furnish  it :  this  results  from  the  very 
nature  of  things. 

Whence  it  follows,  that  a  father  must  work  to  provide  for 
his  children  :  this  is  so  evident  and  necessary  a  duty  that 
there  is  hardly  any  need  of  dwelling  on  it. 

But  it  is  not  only  for  the  present  that  the  head  of  the 
family  ought  to  provide ;  he  should  provide  for  the  future 
also.      He  should,  on  the  one  hand,  foresee  the  case  when,  by 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  209 

some  possible  niisfortune,  he  may  be  taken  from  his  children 
before  they  are  grown ;  and  on  the  other,  prepare  the  way  to 
their  providing  for  themselves.  The  first  case  shows  us  how 
economy  antl  prudence  become  thus  a  sacred  duty  for  the 
head  of  a  family.  This  also  explains  how  it  may  be  a  duty  in 
contracting  a  marriage  not  to  lose  sight  of  the  question  of 
property :  not  that  this  consideration  should  not  give  way 
before  others  more  important ;  but  other  things  being  equal, 
the  best  marriage  is  that  which,  keeping  in  view  the  future 
interests  of  the  children,  provides  against  the  case  when  by 
some  misfortune  they  may  be  left  orphans  at  an  early  age. 

In  supposing  the  most  favorable  cases,  the  father  and 
mother  may  hope  that  they  will  live  long  enough  to  see  their 
children  becoming  in  their  turn  independent  persons,  able  to 
provide  for  themselves.  It  is  in  view  of  this,  that  parents 
should  plan  a  profession  or  a  career  for  their  children  ;  in 
most  cases,  it  is  a  necessity,  it  is  expedient  in  all  But  the 
preparation  for  a  career  presupposes  education  ;  and  here  the 
material  interests  and  security  of  the  children  blend  with  their 
intellectual  and  moral  interests. 

Everybody  recognizes  in  the  education  of  children  two 
distinct  things :  instruction  and  education  properly  so  called  : 
the  first  has  for  its  object  the  mind  ;  and  the  second  the  char- 
acter. These  two  things  must  not  be  separated :  for,  without 
instruction,  all  education  is  powerless  ;  and  Avithout  a  moral 
education,  instruction  may  be  dangerous. 

Parents  should  then — and  it  is  a  strict  duty — give  to  their 
children  the  instruction  their  resources  and  condition  allow  ; 
but  they  are  not  permitted  to  leave  them  in  ignorance  if  they 
have  the  means  to  educate  them.  Some  nan-ow  minds  still 
believe  that  instruction  is  of  no  use  to  the  people,  and  is  even 
a  dangerous  thing.  This  has  been  sufficiently  refuted.  The 
greatest  number  of  crimes  and  offenses  are  committed  by  the 
most  ignorant  classes :  the  more  they  learn,  the  better  will 
they  understand  the  duties  of  their  condition  and  the  dignity 
of  human  nature.     It  has  been  justly  s;«d  tliat  little  knowl- 


210  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

edge  Biay  be  more  dangerous  than  ignorance  :  for  this  reason 
sliould  men  be  raised  above  the  dangerous  point,  and  be  put 
in  possession  of  as  much  knowledge  as  their  condition  war- 
rants. 

Instruction  has  two  useful  effects :  first,  it  increases  the  re- 
sources of  a  man,  renders  him  better  qualified  for  a  greater 
variety  of  things  ;  it  is  then,  as  political  economy  styles  it,  a 
capital.  Parents,  in  having  their  children  taught,  give  them 
thereby  a  far  more  substantial  and  productive  capital  than  what 
they  could  transmit  to  them  by  gift  or  legacy.  In  the  second 
place,  instruction  elevates  man  and  ennobles  liis  nature.  If  it 
is  reason  that  distinguishes  man  from  the  brute,  knowledge 
enlarges  and  heightens  reason.  Instruction  thus  works  to- 
gether with  moral  education  and  forms  one  of  its  essential  parts. 

The  head  of  a  family  Avho  then,  from  personal  interest, 
negligence,  ill-will,  or,  in  fine,  from  ignorance,  deprives  his 
children  of  the  instruction  which  is  their  due,  fails  thereby  in 
an  essential  duty.* 

It  must,  moreover,  be  admitted,  that  instruction  alone  does 
not  suffice ;  science  alone  does  not  form  character ;  persuasion, 
authority,  example,  the  moral  action  of  every  instant  is  neces- 
sary thereto.  It  is  a  great  problem  to  know  how  much  of  fear 
and  gentleness,  restraint  and  liberty  shoidd  enter  in  paternal 
education.  AU  agree  that  a  child  should  not  be  brought  up 
through  fear  alone,  as  the  animals  are.  As  Fenelon  admirably 
puts  it,  "  Joy  and  confidence  should  be  the  natural  state  of 
mind  of  children  ;  otherwise  their  intelligence  becomes  ob- 
scured, their  courage  droops ;  if  they  are  lively,  fear  will  irritate 
them ;  if  soft,  it  will  make  them  stupid ;  fear  is  Hke  the 
violent  remedies  employed  in  extreme  illnesses  :  they  purge  ; 
but  they  injure  the  constitution  and  wear  out  its  organs  ;  a 
soul  led  by  fear  is  always  the  feebler  for  it. " 

On  the  other  hand,  everybody  admits  also  that  an  exces- 

*  This  duty  to-day  is  imposed  by  law  :  "  Primary  instruction  is  obligatory  for 
cliildren  of  both  sexes  from  six  to  thirteen  years."  (Law  of  the  28th  March,  1882, 
art.  4.) 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  211 

sive  indulgence  is  as  dangerous  as  a  despotic  authority. 
Eousseau  ingenuously  remarks  :  "  The  best  means  of  making 
your  child  miserable  is  to  accustom  it  to  obtaining  all  it 
wants ;  for  its  desires  will  incessantly  grow  with  the  facility 
with  Avhich  it  can  satisfy  them  ;  sooner  or  later  the  inability 
to  content  it,  will,  despite  yourself,  oblige  you  to  refuse,  and 
this  unexpected  denial  will  give  it  more  pain  than  the  depri- 
vation of  the  thing  itself.  First  it  will  want  the  cane  yon 
have  in  your  hand ;  then  your  Avatch  ;  then  the  bird  in  the 
air;  the  bright  star  in  the  sky;  in  short,  all  that  it  sees:  and 
unless  you  were  a  god,  how  could  you  satisfy  it?"  This 
remark  of  Rousseau  refers  to  the  earliest  cliildhood,  but  it  can 
be  applied  to  all  ages. 

It  is  evident  that  all  the  duties  we  have  here  mentioned 
relate  principally  to  the  first  of  the  three  periods  distinguished 
by  Grotius.  As  the  children  groAv  up,  their  own  personal 
responsibility  gradually  takes  the  place  of  the  paternal  respon- 
sibility, and  there  comes  the  time  of  the  third  state  above 
mentioned,  when  both  father  and  mother  no  longer  owe- their 
children  any  thing  more  than  love  or  advice.  Instead  of  being 
answerable  for  their  existence,  it  is  rather  the  reverse.  It  is 
the  children's  turn  to  become  responsible  for  the  happiness 
and  safety  of  their  parents. 

But,  as  we  have  said,  the  really  difficult  moment  is  that 
when  the  young  man,  awakening  to  himself,  becomes  conscious 
of  a  will,  and,  without  experience  and  sense  of  proportion, 
wishes  to  exercise  this  wiU  without  restraint.  It  is  here 
especially  that  the  paternal  wiU  must  show  itself  firm  without 
despotism,  and  persuasive  without  flattery  and  weakness,  and 
where  it  becomes  necessary  that  the  paternal  authority  be  firmly 
rooted  in  the  first  age  and  upon  solid  foundations,  so  that  the 
young  man,  even  in  his  fits  of  self-wiU,  may  submit  to  this 
authority  Avith  confidence  and  respect.  There  is  no  particular 
formula  which  could  set  forth  a  rule  of  conduct  obligatory 
under  all  circumstances.  Tact  in  this  case  is  better  than 
rules. 


212  ELEMEXTS  OF  MORALS. 

127.  Duties  of  children. — The  German  pliilosoplier  Fichte, 
ill  liis  book  on  Ml  ties,  has  said  some  very  good  things  touch- 
ing the  duties  of  children ;  we  will  cite  from  it  some  of  the 
pages  devoted  to  this  subject.* 

"  The  right  of  parents  to  set  limits  to  the  liberty  of  their 
children  cannot  be  questioned.  1  should  respect  the  liberty 
of  another  man,  Ijecause  I  regard  him  as  a  being  morally 
educated,  whose  liberty  is  the  necessary  means  whereby  he 
may  reach  the  end  reason  points  out  to  him.  I  cannot  be  his 
judge,  for  ho  is  my  equal.  But  it  is  not  the  same  in  the  case 
of  my  child.  I  regard  my  child  not  as  a  moral  creature  already 
formed,  but  to  be  formed ;  and  it  is  precisely  for  this  reason 
that  it  is  my  duty  to  educate  it.  The  same  reason  which 
commands  me  to  respect  the  liberty  of  my  equals,  commands 
me  to  limit  that  of  my  child. 

"But  I  am  to  limit  this  liberty  only  in  so  far  as  the  use  the 
child  may  make  of  it  might  be  injurious  to  the  very  end  of 
its  education.  Any  other  repression  is  contrary  to  duty,  for 
it  is  contrary  to  the  end  in  view.  It  is  the  very  liberty  of  the 
child  which  must  be  instructed  ;  and  that  this  instruction  be 
possible,  the  child  must  be  free.  Parents  should  not,  there- 
fore, through  mere  caprice,  forbid  children,  with  a  view,  as  is 
said,  to  break  their  will :  it  is  only  wkere  the  will  would  run 
counter  to  the  direct  aims  of  their  education  that  it  should  be 
broken.  Here,  however,  parents  must  be  the  sole  judges  ;  and 
are  answerable  to  their  conscience  alone."  "The  only  duty 
of  the  child,"  says  Fichte  again,  "is  obedience  :  this  should  be 
developed  before  any  other  moral  sentiment ;  for  it  is  the  root 
of  all  morality.  Later  on,  when  in  the  sphere  left  free  by  the 
parents,  morality  has  become  possible,  the  duty  of  obedience 
is  still  the  greatest  of  all  duties,  the  child  should  not  wish  to 
be  free  beyond  the  limits  fixed  by  the  parents  themselves." 

Fichte  explains  next  very  ingeniously,  how  obedience  is  the 
only  way  by  which  the  child  can  imitate  the  morality  it  can- 
not yet  know  :  "  The  same  relation  which  binds  the  full-grown 

*  Fidite,  System  der  SUUnkkre,  Pt.  III.,  ch.  iii.,  §  20. 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  213 

man  to  the  moral  law,  and  to  its  author,  God,  binds  the  child 
to  its  parents.  We  should  do  all  that  duty  commands  us  to 
do,  absolutely  and  without  troubling  ourselves  about  conse- 
quences ;  but  to  be  able  to  do  this,  we  must  suppose  these 
consequences  to  be  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  intended  for  our 
good :  the  same  with  the  child  in  regard  to  parental  com- 
mands. Christianity  represents  God  in  the  image  of  a  father, 
and  justly  so.  But  we  should  not  simply  be  satisfied  always 
and  incessantly  to  speak  of  his  goodness  •  we  should  also 
think  of  our  obligations  toward  him;  of  our  obedience,  and 
that  childlike  trust  free  from  all  anxiety  and  uneasiness  which 
Ave  oiight  to  cultivate  in  regard  to  his  wiU.  To  create  a  similar 
obedience  is  the  only  means  by  which  parents  may  implant 
the  sentiment  of  morality  in  the  hearts  of  their  children  :  it  is, 
therefore,  a  real  duty  for  parents  to  exercise  their  children  in 
a  similar  obedience.  It  is  a  very  false  notion,  which,  like 
many  others,  we  owe  to  the  ruling  eudemonism*  of  the  day, 
that  Avrong  inclinations  of  the  child  can  be  thwarted  by 
reasoning  Avith  it.  There  is  implied  in  this  notion  the  ab- 
surdity of  supposing  the  child  to  be  possessed  of  a  greater 
share  of  reasoning  power  than  ourselves  :  for  even  adults  are 
most  of  the  time  prompted  in  their  acts  by  inclination,  and  not 
by  reason.! 

"  Another  question  presents  itself  now  :  How  far,  in  its  rela- 
tion to  its  parents,  should  the  child's  absolute  obedience  go  1 
This  question  may  have  two  sides  :  the  one  as  to  the  extent 
of  this  obedience,  and  the  other  as  to  its  limits ;  Jiow  fa?'  it 
should  go;  or  in  regard  to  length  of  time,  how  long  it  shall 
last,  and,  if  it  is  to  cease  at  all,  at  what  particular  time  it  is  to 
stop  ? 

In  the  first  case,  the  question  may  be  raised  either  from  the 
child's  or  from  the  parents'  standpoint.  On  the  part  of  the 
child  it  should  never  be  raised.     The  answer  is  this :  The 

*  Doctrine  of  happiness. 

t  Ficthte  is  right  here  when  he  speaks  of  tlie  exaggeration  of  this  principle.  But 
tlie  principle  itself  is  a  true  one,  namely,  that  one  should  accustom  children  t<i  act 
according  to  their  own  reason  :  it  is  the  only  means  of  teaching  them  liberty. 


21-i  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

child  slioulJ  obey,  and  its  obedience  consists  in  its  not  wisliinq 
to  have  any  more  liberty  than  its  parents  permit  it  to  have. 
Of  the  necessary  limits  of  this  obedience,  the  parents  can  alone 
judge  ;  the  child  cannot.  The  doctrine  that  the  child  should 
obey  in  ail  reasonable  cases,  as  Ave  often  hear  it  said,  is  a  con- 
tradictory on3.  He  who  only  obeys  in  reasonable  cases  does 
not  obey,  for  he  Ijecomes  himself  then  the  judge  of  what  is 
reasonable  and  what  is  not.  If  he  does  any  thing  suitable  be- 
cause he  judges  it  to  be  so,  he  acts  according  to  his  ovra  con- 
viction, and  not  from  obedience.  AMiether  this  obedience 
which  they  exact  be  reasonable  or  not,  it  is  fox  the  parents  to 
answer  for  it  before  their  own  consciences ;  but  they  should 
not  allow  their  children  to  sit  in  judgment  over  them.  But, 
it  may  be  asked,  suppose  the  parents  command  their  children 
to  do  an  immoral  thing?  I  answer  :  Either  the  immorality  of 
it  is  only  discovered  after  a  laborious  investigation,  or  it  is  ob- 
vious. In  the  first  case,  there  can  be  no  difficulty ;  for  the 
obedient  child  does  not  suspect  his  parents  capable  of  com- 
manding him  to  do  any  wrong.  In  the  second,  the  very  basis 
of  obedience — namely,  the  belief  in  the  superior  morality  of 
the  parents — is  destroyed ;  and  then  a  prolonged  obedience 
Avould  be  contrary  to  duty.  The  same  when  the  immorality 
or  the  shame  of  the  parents  is  self-evident  in  the  children's 
eyes.  Obedience  then  ceases  because  education  through  the 
parents  becomes  impossible. 

The  second  question  is  :  How  long  does  the  duty  of  obe- 
dience last  1  The  answer  to  this  is :  Obedience,  in  the  first 
place,  is  only  exacted  in  view  of  education  ;  and  education  is 
a  means  to  an  end ;  that  end  being  the  utilization  of  the 
child's  powers  for  some  reasonable  purpose,  under  whatever 
circumstances  or  through  whatever  mode..  "When  that  end 
has  lieen  attained,  the  child  cannot  judge  :  it  is  for  the  parents 
to  decide.     Now  two  cases  are  possible  here  : 

One  is  where  the  father  himself  declares  the  end  attained 
and  leaves  his  children  free  to  act  according  to  their  own  Avill 
and  judgment. 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  215 

The  other  is  where  a  certain  result  is  sufficient  to  declare 
the  end  attained.  The  State  is  in  this  instance  a  competent 
outside  judge.  For  example,  if  the  State  entrusts  an  office  to 
a  son,  it  declares  the  latter's  education  completed  ;  the  judg- 
ment of  the  State  is  the  parents'  judicial  bond :  they  must 
submit  to  it  without  appeal :  it  binds  them  also  morally,  and 
they  must  submit  to  it  from  a  sense  of  duty. 

There  is  finally  a  third  case  :  this  is  where  parental  educa- 
tion is  no  longer  possible,  as,  for  example,  on  the  marriage  of 
the  children.  The  daughter  then  gives  herself  to  her  husband 
and  becomes  subject  to  his  will :  she  can  therefore  no  longer 
depend  upon  lier  parents'  will.  Tlie  son  assumes  the  care  of 
his  wife,  conformably  to  her  wishes ;  he  can  therefore  no 
longer  be  guided  hy  others'  wishes,  not  even  by  those  of  his 
parents. 

These  three  cases  do  not  yet  exhaust  the  question  ;  for  we 
may  suppose  a  fourth  :  the  one  where  tlie  children  are  not 
called  to  a  function,  by  the  State  ;  Avhen  they  do  not  marry, 
and  when  the  parents  are  nevertheless  unwilling  to  relax  their 
authority,  seemingly  wishing  to  xiphoid  the  obedience  of  early 
childhood.  In  tliis  case,  the  parents  evidently  overstep  their 
rights ;  for  it  is  obvious  that  at  a  given  time  man  must  belong 
to  himself.  This  time  has  been  fixed  by  the  State ;  which, 
determines  when  one  attains  to  his  majority.  In  granting  to 
a  son  the  free  disposal  of  his  property,  the  liberty  to  make 
contracts,  to  traffic,  the  right  of  suffrage,  the  right  to  marry, 
etc.,  the  State  puts  an  end  to  paternal  authority  as  an  author- 
ity armed  with  restraint,  yet  certainly  not  as  a  moral  authority, 
for  in  this  respect  it  is  indelible.  The  son  having  become  a 
person,  and  being  in  his  turn  invested  with  moral  respon- 
sibility, may  lay  obedience  aside,  but  he  does  not  with  this  lay 
aside  the  respect,  gratitude,  and  affection  he  owes  his  parents. 

Even  after  the  emancipation  of  the  children,  there  still 
exists  between  them  and  their  parents  a  moral  tie. 

Parents,  especially  if  they  have  been,  as  we  suppose,  the 
educators  of  their  children,  know  their  inner  being,  their  dis- 


218  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

position :  they  have  seen  it  develop  under  their  eyes  ;  they 
have  formed  it.  They  therefore  know  it  better  than  the  chil- 
dren themselves  can  know  it.  They  consequently  continue 
to  be  their  best  advisers.  There  is  then  left  to  parents  a 
special  duty,  namely,  that  of  advising  their  children,  and  on 
the  part  of  the  children  a  correlative  duty,  that  of  listening 
attentively  to  the  advice  of  their  parents,  and  of  considering 
it  carefully.  Thus  do  parents  retain  their  care  and  solicitude 
for  their  children,  and  the  children  the  duty  of  respect. 

These  duties  of  respect  and  gratitude  toward  parents  have 
been  admirably  expressed  by  the  ancient  writers. 

Plato,  after  speaking  of  the  honor  which  should  be  given  to  the  gods, 
says  :  "  Next  comes  the  honor  of  living  parents,  to  whom,  as  is  meet, 
we  have  to  pay  the  first  and  greatest  and  oldest  of  all  debts,  considering 
that  all  wliich  a  man  has  belongs  to  those  who  gave  him  birth  and 
brou"-ht  him  up,  anil  that  he  must  do  all  that  he  can  to  minister  to  them  : 
first,  in  his  property  ;  secondly,  in  his  person  ;  and  thirdly,  in  his  soul ; 
paying  the  debts  due  to  them  for  the  care  and  travail  which  they  be- 
stowed upon  him  of  old,  in  the  days  of  his  infancy,  and  which  he  is  now 
to  pay  back  to  them  when  they  are  old  and  in  the  extremity  of  their 
need.  And  all  his  life  long  he  ought  never  to  utter,  or  to  have  uttered, 
an  unbecoming  word  to  them  ;  for  all  light  and  winged  words  he  will 
have  to  give  an  account;  Nemesis,  the  messenger  of  justice,  is  appointed 
to  watch  over  them.  And  we  ought  to  yield  to  our  parents  when  they 
are  angry,  and  let  them  satisfy  their  feelings  in  word  or  deed,  consider- 
ing that,  when  a  father  thinks  that  he  has  been  wronged  by  his  son,  he 
may  be  expected  to  be  very  angry."  * 

Xenophon,  likewise,  relates  to  us  an  admirable  exhortation 
of  Socrates  to  his  oldest  son  Lamprocles,  on  filial  piety.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  wife  of  Socrates,  Xantippe,  was  noted 
for  her  crabbed  disposition,  which  often  sorely  tried  Socrates' 
patience.  No  doubt  this  was  the  case  with  the  sons  also ; 
but,  less  patient  than  their  father,  they  yielded  sometimes  to 
their  anger.  Socrates  recalls  Lamprocles  to  his  duty  as  a  son, 
enumerating  to  him  all  that  mothers  have  to  endure  for  their 
children  : 

■•  The  Dial(ij;ucs  of  Plato.     Laws.     B.  Jowetfs  Translation,  B.  IV.,  238. 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  21? 

"  The  woman  receives  and  bears  the  liurJen,  oppressing  and  endan- 
gering her  life,  and  imparting  a  portion  of  the  nutriment  with  which 
she  is  herself  supported  ;  and  at  length,  after  bearing  it  the  full  time, 
and  bringing  it  forth  with  great  pain,  she  suckles  and  cherishes  it, 
though  she  has  received  no  previous  benefit  from  it,  nor  does  the 
infant  know  by  whom  it  is  tended,  nor  is  it  able  to  signify  what  it 
wants,  but  she,  conjecturing  what  will  nourish  and  please  it,  tries  to 
satisfy  its  calls,  and  feeds  it  for  a  long  time,  both  night  and  day,  sub- 
mitting to  the  trouble,  and  not  knowing  what  return  she  will  receive  for 
it.  Nor  does  it  satisfy  the  parents  merely  to  feed  their  offspring,  but 
as  soon  as  the  children  appear  capable  of  learning  any  thing,  they  teach 
them  whatever  they  know  that  may  be  of  use  for  their  conduct  in  life  ; 
and  whenever  they  consider  another  more  capable  of  communicating 
than  themselves,  they  send  their  sons  to  him  at  their  own  expense,  and 
take  care  to  adopt  every  course  that  their  children  may  be  as  much  im- 
proved as  possible." 

Upon  this  the  young  man  said  :  "But,  even  if  she  has  done  all  this, 
no  one,  assuredly,  could  endure  her  ill-lunnor." 

"And  do  you  reflect,"  returned  Socrates,  "how  much  grievous  trouble 
you  have  given  her  by  your  peevishness,  by  voice  and  by  action,  in  the 
day  and  in  the  night,  and  how  much  anxiety  you  have  caused  her  when 
you  were  ill  ?  .  .  .  Or  do  you  suppose  your  mother  meditates  evil  to- 
Avard  you?"  "No,  indeed,"  said  Lamprocles,  "that  I  do  not  suppose." 
"  Do  you  then  say  that  this  mother,"  rejoined  Socrates,  "  who  is  so  be- 
nevolent to  you,  who,  when  you  are  ill,  takes  care  of  you,  to  the  utmost 
of  her  power,  that  you  may  recover  your  health,  and  who,  besides,  en- 
treats the  gods  for  many  blessings  on  your  head,  is  a  harsh  mother  ?  Oh, 
my  son,  if  you  are  wise,  you  will  entreat  the  gods  to  pardon  you  if  you 
have  been  wanting  in  Respect  toward  your  mother,  lest,  regarding  you 
as  an  ungrateful  person,  they  should  be  disinclined  to  do  you  good ;  and 
you  will  have  regard,  also,  to  the  opinion  of  men,  lest,  observing  you  to 
be  neglectful  of  your  parents,  they  should  all  contemn  you,  and  you 
should  then  be  found  destitute  of  friends  ;  for  if  men  surmise  that  you 
are  ungrateful  toward  your  parents,  no  one  will  believe  that  if  he  does 
you  a  kindness  he  will  meet  with  gratitude  in  return."* 

iUthougl)  cliildrcn,  when  of  ago,  belong  legally  to  themselves, 
there  are  yet  two  serious  circumstances,  where  they  should 
exhaust  all  the  forms  of  respect  and  submission  before  they 
make  a  harsh  use  of  the  rights  which  the  law  grants  them  : 
these  are  marriage,  and  the  choice  of  a  profession.    In  the  first 

*  Xt'noplion's  Mc-inorabilia  o/Socraia:,  translation  by  J.  !^.  Watson,  B.  II.,  Chap.  2. 

10 


218  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

case,  both  the  law  and  morality  require  the  consent  of  the 
parents ;  and  it  is  only  as  a  last  extremity,  and  after  three  re- 
spectful appeals  to  them,  that  proceedings  may  go  on.  Here 
again,  although  the  law  permits  it,  it  may  be  said  that,  except 
in  extreme  and  exceptional  cases,  it  is  always  better  not  to 
proceed,  but  wait  till  some  change  of  circumstances  brings 
about  a  change  in  the  mind  of  the  parents.  In  fact,  the  par- 
ents' resistance  in  these  cases  is  generally  in  the  interest  of 
the  children ;  they  wish  to  protect  them  against  the  impulses 
of  their  passions.  They  have,  besides,  a  sort  of  right  to  inter- 
dict the  admission  into  the  family  and  the  taking  of  its  name 
to  any  one  that  might  be  unworthy  of  these  favors. 

The  obligation  not  to  marry  without  the  consent  of  the  par- 
rents  (except  in  extreme  cases)  does  not  carry  with  it  the  ob- 
ligation of  marrying  against  one's  will  in  order  to  obey  them. 
This  would  be  the  violation  of  a  duty  toward  others ;  you 
have  no  right  to  jeopardize  the  happiness  of  a  third  party,  that 
you  might  pn  your  side  practice  the  duty  of  obedience.  To 
marry  with  repugnance  is  contrary  to  duty,  for  it  is  entering 
into  the  bonds  of  an  unhappy  union. 

As  to  the  choice  of  a  profession,  the  obligation  to  conform 
to  the  desires  and  tlie  will  of  tlie  parents  is  less  strict  than  in 
marriage ;  and  it  is  obvious  that  the  first,  the  stricter  duty 
here,  is  to  choose  the  profession  one  is  best  fitted  for.  But  as 
there  is  here  also,  on  the  side  of  the  children,  much  inexperi- 
ence (as  among  the  various  professions  there  are  some  very 
difficult,  even  dangerous  ones,  where  success  is  often  very  rare, 
and  which  for  this  reason  are  all  the  more  tempting),  it  is 
clear  that  in  such  a  case  it  is  the  children's  duty,  except  where 
there  is  an  irresistible  proclivity,  to  allow  themselves  to  be 
guided  by  a  more  enlightened  and  more  prudent  experience. 
At  any  rate,  the  strict  duty  is  to  confer  with  the  parents,  con- 
sult their  superior  wisdom,  and  delay  as  much  as  possible  a 
final  resolve.  These  principles  once  set  down,  it  is  certain 
that,  on  the  other  hand,  one  should  not,  to  obey  one's  parents, 
follow   a   profession    one   felt   no   capacity   for   whatsoever. 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  219 

There  the  duties  toward  society  and  toward  one's  self  take 
precedence  of  the  family  duties. 

128.  Fraternal  duties. — Socrates,  who  has  spoken  so  well 
of  the  duties  of  husbands  and  wives  and  the  duties  of  children, 
shall  here  again  be  our  guide  as  to  the  duties  of  brothers  and 
sisters.  Two  brothers,  Chaesephon  and  Chsesecrates,  did  not 
live  well  together.  Socrates  tried  to  reconcile  them  with  each 
other  by  an  exhortation,  of  which  the  following  gives  the 
principal  points:* 

1.  Brothers  are  better  than  riches ;  for  they  are  things  en- 
dowed with  reason,  whilst  wealth  is  but  a  senseless  thing ; 
brothers  are  a  protection;  riches,  on  the  contrary,  need  pro- 
tection. 

2.  One  had  ratlier  live  with  fellow-citizens  than  live  alone ; 
how  much  more  would  one  not  rather  live  with  brothers. 

3.  Is  not  the  being  born  of  the  same  parents,  the  having 
been  brought  up  together,  very  strong  reasons  to  love  one 
another?  Even  among  brutes  a  certain  affection  springs  up 
between  those  that  are  raised  together. 

4.  Even  though  our  brothers  be  of  dispositions  difficult  to 
live  with,  we  should  make  advances  to  bring  them  nearer  to 
us. 

5.  It  is  for  the  youngest  to  make  advances  to  the  oldest. 

A  modern  moralist,  Silvio  PeUico,t  expresses  most  deli- 
cately the  duties  of  brothers  and  sisters  in  their  intercourse 
with  each  other : 

"  To  practice  properly,  in  one's  relations  with  men,  the 
divine  science  of  charity,  one  must  have  learned  it  at  home. 
WHiat  ineffable  sweetness  is  there  in  the  thought :  '  We  are 
the  children  of  the  same  mother  !  .  .  .'  If  you  wish  to  be  a 
good  brother,  beware  of  selfishness.  Let  each  of  your  brotherp_ 
each  of  your  sisters,  see  that  their  interests  are  as  dear  to  you 
as  your  own.  If  one  of  them  commits  a  fault,  be  indulgent 
to  it.     Rejoice  over  their  virtues;  imitate  them." 

♦  Xenophnn's  McmoraViilia.    Translation  J.  S.  Watson. 
t  Des  Devoirs  de  Vhonune,  ch.  xii. 


229  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

"  The  familiarity  of  the  fireside  should  never  make  you  for- 
get to  be  courteous  toward  your  brothers. 

"  Be  still  more  courteous  toward  your  sisters.  Their  sex  is 
endowed  with  a  powerful  attraction ;  it  is  a  divine  gift  which 
they  use  to  make  the  house  pleasant  and  cheerful.  You  will 
find  in  your  sisters  the  delicious  charm  of  womanly  virtues ; 
and  since  nature  has  made  them  more  feeble  and  sensitive 
than  you,  be  attentive  to  them  in  their  troubles,  console  them, 
and  do  not  cause  them  any  unnecessary  pain. 

"  Those  who  contract  the  habit  of  being  ill-natured  and  rude 
toward  their  brothers  and  sisters,  are  rude  and  ill-natured 
toward  everybody  else.  If  the  home-intercourse  is  tender 
and  true,  man  will  experience  in  his  other  social  relations  the 
same  need  of  esteem  and  noble  affections." 

129.  Duties  of  masters  toward  their  servants.  —  One 
of  the  must  important  functions  of  home  administration,  is 
the  management  of  domestics.  It  comprises  two  things : 
choice  and  direction.  It  is  well  known  how  important  in  a 
household  the  choice  of  servants  is ;  as  it  is  they  who  attend 
to  the  marketing  and  pay  the  bills,  so  that  the  finances  of  the 
house  are,  to  some  extent,  in  their  hands.*  But  this  is  but 
one  of  the  lesser  features  of  the  influence  of  servants  in  a 
household  ;  the  most  serious  one  is  their  familiar  intercourse 
with  the  children ;  and  it  is  there  especially  that  it  becomes 
necessary  to  make  sure  of  their  fidelity  and  honesty.  Yet  to 
make  a  careful  and  successful  choice  is  of  no  use,  if  one  is  igno- 
rant of  the  art  of  directing  and  governing,  which  consists  in 
a  just  medium  between  too  much  lenity  and  too  much  severity. 
The  master  of  the  house  should,  of  course,  always  have  his 
eyes  open,  but  he  should  also  know  that  no  human  being 
learns  to  do  things  well,  if  he  is  n(jt  allowed  to  act  with  some 
sort  of  freedom. 

Surveillance  and  covjideiice  are  the  two  [)rinciplcs  of  a  "wise 
domestic  govcrument.  Without  the  lirst,  one  is  apt  to  be 
cheated  ;  without  the  second,  one  cheats  one's  self  in  depriving 

*  A  ICunipean  custom.— Tmiisi. 


FAMILY    DUTIES.  221 

tlic  servant  of  the  most  energetic  elements  of  human  -will,  re- 
sponsibility and  honor.* 

The  master,  again,  should  avoid  being  violent  and  brutal 
toward  his  servants.  He  should  require  of  them  all  that  is  just, 
yet  without  pushing  his  requirements  to  the  point  of  persecu- 
tion. Many  persons  deprive  themselves  of  good  servants,  be- 
cause they  cannot  patiently  bear  with  the  inevitable  defects 
inherent  in  human  nature. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  servant  owes  his  master  :  1,  an  al> 
solute  honesty.  As  it  is  the  servants  Avho  do  the  marketing 
and  pay  the  bills,  they  have  the  funds  of  the  family  in  their 
hands.  The  more  one  is  obliged  to  trust  them  the  more  are  they 
bound  to  restrain  themselves  from  the  slightest  act  of  dis- 
honesty. 2.  They  owe  obedience  and  exactness  in  the  duties 
pertaining  to  their  service.  3.  They  should,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, attach  themselves  to  the  persons  whose  service  they 
have  entered;  the  longer  they  stay  with  them,  the  more  will 
they  be  considered  as  part  of  the  family,  and  the  greater  will 
be  their  right  to  the  regard  and  aifection  due  to  age  and 
fidelity. 

130.  Duties  of  children  toward  servants. — It  is  not  only 
the  master  and  mistress  of  the  house  that  have  duties  to  fidtill 
toward  servants,  but  the  children  also.  The  latter  are,  in 
general,  too  much  disposed  to  treat  servants  as  instruments  of 
their  wishes  and  the  playthings  of  their  caprices.  Although 
.slavery  is  no  longer  allowed,  some  children,  if  let  alone,  would 
very  soon  re-establish  it  for  their  own  benefit.  To  command, 
insult,  beat,  are  the  not  uncommon  modes  of  procedure  with 
children  that  are  left  entirely  free  in  their  relations  with  in- 
feriors. The  latter,  on  the  other  hand,  do  not  hesitate  to  em- 
ploy force,  in  the  absence  of  the  masters,  and  pass  readily  from 
slavery  to  tyranny.  All  such  conduct  is  reprehensible.  The 
servant  should  never  be  allowed  to  strike ;  but  he  should  him- 
self not  be  struck  or  insulted.  In  childhood,  it  is  for  the 
parents  to  oversee  the  relations  between  tlieir  servants  and 

*  See  our  work  ou  Im  Famillc  ("A  lecture). 


223  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

cliildren.  Later  it  is  for  the  children  themselves,  when  they 
have  reached  the  age  of  reason,  to  know  that  they  must  not 
treat  servants  like  hrutes.  The  same  observations  may  he  ap- 
plied to  workmen,  in  circumstances  where  workmen  are  in 
some  respect  in  the  service  of  the  family. 

Although  servants  are  no  longer  slaves,  nor  even  serfs,  one 
may  still,  modifying  its  meaning,  quote  Seneca's  admirable 
protestation  against  slavery :  "  They  are  slaves  !  rather  say 
they  are  men  !  The}^  are  slaves  !  Not  any  more  than  thou  ! 
He  whom  thou  callest  a  slave,  was  born  of  the  same  seed  as 
thyself ;  he  enjoys  the  same  sky,  breathes  the  same  air,  lives 
and  dies  the  same  as  thou."  Seneca  closes  this  eloquent 
apostrophe  with  a  maxim  recalling  the  Gospel :  "  Live  with 
thy  inferiors,  as  thou  wouldst  thy  superior  should  live  with 
thee." 

As  to  the  duties  of  servants  to  their  masters,  they  belong  to 
the  class  of  professional  duties  which  we  shall  take  up  further 
on  (Chap.  XIII.). 


CHAPTEE   XL 

DCTTIES  TOWARD   ONE'S    SELF — DUTIES   RELATIVE   TO 
THE   BODY. 


SUMMARY. 

Have  we  duties  toward  ourselves  ? — The  person  of  a  man  should 
not  only  be  sacred  to  others,  it  also  should  Le  so  to  himself. 

Even  though  man  ceased  to  be  in  any  relation  with  other  men  (as,  for 
example,  in  a  desert  island),  he  would  still  have  duties  to  perform. 

The  duty  of  self-preservation.— Suicide.— Arguments  of  Rousseau 
for  and  against  suicide. 

The  different  standpoints  from  which  one  may  condemn  suicide : 
1,  either  as  contrary  to  the  duties  toward  men  ;  2,  or  to  the  duties 
toward  God  ;  3,  or,  lastly,  to  the  duties  toward  ourselves. 

Kant's  fundamental  argument  against  suicide  : 

"  Man  cannot  abdicate  his  personality  as  long  as  he  has  duties  to  per- 
form, which  is  the  same  as  to  say,  as  long  as  he  lives. " 

Case  of  conscience.— Not  to  confound  suicide  with  self-sacrifice. 

Of  voluntary  mutilations  and  of  the  duty  to  avoid  injuring  one's  health. 
That  this  duty  should  be  understood  in  a  wide  sense,  and  not  as  an 
encouragement  to  constant  preoccupation  about  the  condition  of  one's 
body. 

Of  cleanliness. 

Other  duties  concerning  the  body.— Temperance.— Temperance 
recommended  for  two  reasons :  1,  as  necessary  to  health,  and  conse- 
cpiently  as  a  corollary  to  the  duty  of  self-preservation  ;  2,  as  necessary 
to  human  dignity,  which,  through  intemperance,  falls  below  the 
brute. 

Of  the  moderate  use  of  sensual  pleasures.  That  we  should  elevate  them 
by  attaching  to  them  ideas  and  sentiments. 

Other  virtues  :  Decency,  modesty,  propriety,  etc. 

131.  Have  we  duties  toward  ourselves  ?— This  has  been 


224  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

disputed,  and  it  seems  rather  strange  that  it  should  have  been. 
No  one,  say  the  jurists,  binds  liimself  to  himself  ;  no  one  does 
himself  injustice,  they  say  again.  In  short,  man  belongs  to 
himself  :  is  not  that  the  first  of  ownerships,  and  the  basis  of  all 
the  others  1 

"  No,"  replies  Victor  Cousin,  "  from  man's  being  free  and  belonging 
to  himself,  it  is  not  to  be  concluded  that  he  has  all  power  over  himself. 
From  the  fact  alone  that  he  is  endowed  with  both  liberty  and  intelli- 
gence, I,  on  the  contrary,  conclude  that  he  cannot,  without  failing  in 
his  duty,  degrade  his  liberty  any  more  than  he  can  degrade  his  intelli- 
gence.    Libert)'  is  not  only  sacred  to  others  ;  it  is  so  in  itself. 

"  This  obligation  imposed  on  the  moral  personality  to  respect  itself,  it 
is  not  I  who  established  it ;  I  cannot,  therefore,  destroy  it.  Is  the 
respect  I  have  for  myself  founded  on  one  of  those  arbitrary  agreements 
which  cease  to  be  when  the  two  parties  freely  renounce  it  ?  Are  the  two 
contracting  parties  here  I  and  myself  ?  No  ;  there  is  one  of  the  parties 
that  is  not  I,  namely,  humanity  itself,  the  moral  personality,  the  human 
essence  which  does  not  belong  to  me,  which  is  not  my  property,  which 
I  can  no  more  degrade  or  wound  in  myself  than  I  can  in  others.  There 
is  not  even  any  agreement  here  or  contract. 

"  Finally,  man  would  still  have  duties,  even  though  he  ceased  to  be 
in  any  relation  with  other  men.  As  long  as  he  has  any  intelligenceand 
liberty  left,  the  idea  of  right  remains  in  him,  and  with  that  idea,  duty. 
If  he  were  all  at  once  thrown  upon  a  desert  island,  duty  would  still 
follow  him  there."  * 

Kant  has  likewise  defended  the  existence  of  the  duties  of 
man  toward  himself. 

"  Supposing,"  he  says,  "that  there  were  no  duties  of  this  kind,  there 
would  not  be  any  duties  then  of  any  kind  ;  for  I  can  only  think  myself 
under  obligations  to  others,  so  far  as  I  am  under  obligations  to  myself. 
....  Thus  do  people  say,  when  the  question  is  to  save  a  man  or  his 
life  :  I  owe  this  to  myself ;  I  owe  it  to  myself  to  cultivate  such  disposi- 
tions of  mind  as  make  of  me  a  fit  member  of  society  {Dodrine  de  la 
vertu,  trad.  fran9.  de  Barni,  p.  70)." 

132.  Duties  concerning  the  body.— Duty  of  self-preser- 
vation.— The  duties  toward  one's  self  are  generally  divided 

*  Le  Vrai,  Ic  Beuu  ct  le  Bien.     Lect.  xxi.,  cli.  xxii. 


DUTIES   TOWARD   OJfE's   SELF.  225 

into  two  classes :  duties  toward  the  body ,  duties  toward  the 
soul.  Kant  justly  criticised  this  distinction,  and  asks  how  can 
there  be  any  obligations  toward  the  body — that  is  to  say,  to- 
Avard  a  mass  of  matter — which,  apart  from  the  soul,  is  nothing 
better  than  any  of  the  rough  bodies  which  surround  us.  Kant 
proposes  to  substitute  for  this  distinction  the  following  :  duties 
of  man  toward  himself  as  an  animal  (that  is,  united  to  ani- 
mality  by  the  corporeal  functions),  and  the  duties  of  man  to- 
ward himself  as  a  moral  being. 

Considered  as  an  animal,  man  is  united  to  a  body,  and  this 
union  of  soul  and  body  is  what  is  called  life.  Hence  a  first 
duty  which  may  be  coubidered  a  fundamental  duty,  and  the 
basis  of  aU  the  others,  namely,  the  duty  of  self-preservation. 
It  is,  in  fact,  obvious  that  the  fulfillment  of  all  our  other  duties 
rests  on  this  prior  one. 

Before  being  a  duty,  self-preservation  is  for  man  an  instinct, 
and  even  so  energetic  and  so  universal  an  instinct  that  there 
woukl  seem  to  be  very  little  need  to  transform  it  into  duty  :  so 
much  so  is  it  an  instinct  that  man  has  rather  to  combat  in 
himself  the  cowardly  tendency  which  attaches  him  to  life, 
than  that  which  induces  him  to  seek  death.  Yet  does  it 
happen,  and  unfortunately  too  often,  that  men,  crazed  by 
despair,  come  to  believe  that  they  have  a  right  to  free  them- 
selves of  life  :  this  is  what  is  called  suicide.  It  is,  therefore, 
very  important  in  morals  to  combat  this  fatal  idea,  and  to 
teach  men  that,  even  though  life  ceases  to  be  a  pleasure,  there 
is  still  a  moral  obligation  which  they  cannot  escape. 

133.  Suicide. — J.  J.  Rousseau  and  Kant. — The  question 
of  suicide  was  treated  with  great  ability  by  J.  J.  Rousseau  in 
one  of  his  most  celebrated  works.  He  put  into  the  mouth  of 
two  personages,  on  the  one  side,  the  apology  for,  and  on  the 
other,  the  condemnation  of  suicide.  We  will  not  cite  here 
these  two  pieces,  the  eloquence  of  which  is  somewhat  de- 
clamatory, but  we  will  give  an  abstract  of  the  principal 
arguments  presented  on  each  side  in  favor  of  its  own  posi- 
tion. 


22G  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

Arguments  in  favor  of  suicide. — 1.  It  is  said  that  life  is 
not  our  own  because  it  was  given  us. — Not  so,  for,  just 
because  it  was  given  us,  is  it  our  own.  God  has  given  us 
arms,  and  yet  we  allow  them  to  be  cut  off  when  necessary. 

2.  Man,  it  is  said,  is  a  soldier  on  sentry  on  earth  :  he  should 
not  leave  his  post  without  orders. — So  be  it ;  but  misfortune 
is  precisely  that  order  which  informs  me  that  I  have  nothing 
more  to  do  here  below. 

3.  Suicide,  it  is  said  again,  is  rebellion  against  Providence. 
— But  how  1  it  is  not  to  escape  its  laws  one  puts  an  end  to 
one's  life  ;  it  is  to  execute  them  the  better  :  in  whatever 
place  the  soul  may  be,  it  will  always  be  under  God's  govern- 
ment. 

4.  "If  thy  slave  attempted  to  kill  himself,"  says  Socrates  to 
Cebes  in  the  Phoedo,  "  wouldst  thou  not  punish  him  for  trying 
unjustly  to  deprive  thee  of  thy  property ?" — Good  Socrates, 
what  sayest  thou  1  Does  one  no  longer  belong  to  God  when 
dead  ?  Thou  art  quite  wrong  ;  thou  shouldst  have  said  :  "If 
thou  puttest  on  thy  slave  a  garment  which  is  in  his  way  in  the 
service  he  owes  thee,  wouldst  thou  punish  him  for  laying  tliis 
garment  aside  in  order  the  better  to  serve  thee  ? " 

5.  It  is  said  that  life  is  never  an  evil. — Yet  has  nature 
implanted  in  us  so  great  a  horror  of  death  that  life  to  certain 
beings  must  surely  be  an  evil,  since  they  resolve  to  renounce  it. 

6.  It  is  said  that  suicide  is  a  cowardice. — How  many  cow- 
ards, then,  among  the  ancients  !  Arria,  Eponina,  Lucretia,  Bru- 
tus, Cato  !  Certainly  there  is  courage  in  suffering  the  evils 
one  cannot  avoid ;  but  it  were  insanity  to  suffer  voluntarily 
those  from  which  one  can  free  himself. 

7.  There  are  unquestionably  duties  that  should  attach  us  to 
life. — But  he  who  is  a  burden  to  every  one,  and  of  no  use  to 
himself,  why  should  he  not  have  a  right  to  quit  a  place 
where  his  complaints  are  importunate  and  his  sufferings  use- 
less? 

8.  Why  should  it  bo  allowable  to  get  cured  of  the  gout  and 
not  of  life  ?    If  we  consider  the  will  of  God,  what  evil  is  there 


DUTIES  TOWARD   ONE'S  SELF.  227 

for  us  to  combat,  that  he  has  not  himself- sent  us?  Are  we 
not  permitted,  then,  to  change  the  nature  of  any  thing  because 
all  that  is,  is  as  he  wished  it] 

9.  "  Thou  shall  not  kill,"  says  the  Decalogue. — But  if  this 
commandment  is  to  be  taken  literally,  one  should  kill  neither 
criminals  nor  enemies. 

Next  comes  the  answer  of  my  lord  Edward,  namely,  J.  J. 
Kousseau : 

Arguments  against  suicide. — 1.  If  life  has  no  moral  end,  one 
can  unquestionably  free  one's  self  from  it  when  it  is  too  pain- 
ful: if  it  has  one,  it  is  not  permitted  to  set  it  arbitrary  limits. 

2.  The  wish  to  die  does  not  constitute  a  right  to  die  ;  other- 
wise, a  similar  wish  might^justify  all  crimes. 

3.  Thou  sayest :  Life  is  an  evil ;  but  if  thou  hast  the  cour- 
age to  bear  it,  thou  wilt  some  day  say  :   Life  is  a  good. 

4.  Physical  pain  may  in  extreme  cases  deprive  one  of  tlie 
use  of  reason  and  will ;  but  moral  pain  should  be  borne  bravely. 

5.  No  man  is  wholly  useless ;  he  has  always  some  duties 
to  fulfill. 

It  has  been  justly  observed,  we  think,  that  this  second 
letter  is  feebler  than  the  first,  and  that  Kousseau  displayed 
more  talent  in  justifying  suicide  than  in  combating  it ;  at  any 
rate,  the  following  peroration  will  always  be  considered  an 
admirable  pavssage  to  quote  : 

"  Listen  to  me,  thou  foolish  youth  :  thou  art  dear  to  me,  I 
pity  thy  eiTors.  If  thou  hast  at  the  bottom  of  tliy  heart  the 
least  feeling  of  virtue  left,  come  to  me,  let  me  teach  thee  to 
love  life.  Every  time  thou  shalt  be  tempted  to  put  an  end  to 
it,  say  to  thyself :  '  Let  me  do  one  more  good  deed  before  I 
die ! '  Then  go  and  seek  some  poverty  to  relieve,  some  mis- 
fortune to  console,  some  oppressed  wretch  to  protect.  If  this 
contemplation  does  not  stop  thee  to-day,  it  will  stop  thee  to- 
morrow, or  the  day  after,  or  perhaps  for  the  rest  of  thy  life. 
If  it  does  not  stop  thee,  go  then  and  die  ;  for  thou  art  not 
worthy  to  live." 

Suicide  may  be  considered  from  three  different  standpoints, 


228  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

which  arc  all  three  involved  and  blended  in  the  preceding 
discussion  : 

1.  Suicide  is  a  transgression  of  our  duty  toward  other  men 
(inasmuch  as,  however  miserable,  one  can  always  render 
some  service  to  others). 

2.  Suicide  is  contrary  to  our  duties  toward  God  (inas- 
much as  man  abandons  thereby,  without  being  relieved  of  it, 
the  post  intrusted  to  him  in  this  world). 

3.  Finally — and  this  is  for  us  here  the  essential  point — sui- 
cide is  a  violation  of  the  duty  of  man  toward  himself ;  as,  all 
other  considerations  set  aside,  he  is  bound  to  self-preservation 
as  a  moral  personality,  and  has  no  right  whatsoever  upon  him- 
self. 

Kanfs  discussion. — Kant  is,  of  all  philosophers,  the  one 
who  most  insisted  on  this  latter  view  of  the  matter,  and  devel- 
oped it  with  the  greatest  force. 

"It  seems  absurd,"  he  says,  "that  man  coiilil  do  himself  injury." 
( Volenti  non  fit  injuria.*)  Thus  did  the  stoic  regard  it  as  a  prerogative 
of  the  sage,  to  be  able,  quietly  and  of  his  owai  free  will,  to  step  out  of 
this  life  as  he  would  out  of  a  room  full  of  smoke.  But  this  very  cour- 
age, this  strength  of  soul  which  enables  us  to  brave  death,  revealing  to 
us  a  something  man  prizes  more  than  life,  should  have  been  to  him  [the 
stoic]  all  the  greater  incentive  not  to  destroy  in  himself  a  being 
endowed  with  a  faculty  so  great,  so  superior  to  all  the  most  powerful  of 
sensuous  motives,  and  consequently  not  to  deprive  himself  of  life. 

Man  cannot  abdicate  his  personality  as  long  as  there  are  duties  for 
him,  consequently  as  long  as  he  lives  ;  and  there  is  contradiction  in 
granting  him  the  right  of  freeing  himself  from  all  obligation — that  is  to 
say,  acting  as  freely  as  if  he  had  no  need  of  any  kind  of  permission.  To 
annihilate  in  one's  own  person  the  subject  of  morality,  is  to  extirpate 
from  the  world  as  much  as  possible  the  existence  of  morality  itself;  it 
is  disposing  of  one's  self  as  of  an  instrument,  for  a  simply  arbitrary  end ; 
it  is  lowering  humanity  in  one's  own  person. 

134.  Resume  of  the  discussion  on  suicide. — From  the 

above  point  of  view  tlie  sophisms  of  Saint-Preux  in  J.  J. 
Eousseau  are  easily  controverted.  I  can  cut  my  arm  oflF,  you 
say ;  why  can  I  not  destroy  my  body  1 — But  in  destroying  a 

♦  There  is  no  injustice  done  to  him  who  consents  to  it. 


DUTIES   TOWAED    ONE'S   SELF.  229 

withered  or  mortified  arm,  I  nowise  injure  the  human  person- 
ality, which  remains  within  me  entire;  and,  on  the  contrary, 
I  deliver  the  moral  personality  within  me  of  a  physical  trouble 
which  deprives  it  of  its  liberty. 

I  can,  you  say,  avoid  pain :  no  one  is  obliged  to  bear 
a  toothache,  if  he  can  free  himself  from  it. — Yes,  unquestion- 
ably ;  but  in  finding  a  remedy  for  physical  pain,  instead  of 
wronging  the  moral  personality  of  man,  I  free  it,  on  the  con- 
trary, of  the  evils  which,  in  crushing  it,  tend  to  debase  it. 
Besides,  there  are,  moreover,  pains  from  which  it  is  not  right  to 
free  one's  self.  For  example,  it  is  not  right  to  leave  the  sick- 
bed of  one  dear  to  us  because  his  pains  are  unbearable. 

But  life  is  full  of  misery,  and,  in  certain  cases,  the  evil  is 
without  any  compensation. — The  question  is  not  whether  life 
is  agreeable  or  painful :  it  might  be  a  question,  if  pleasure 
were  the  end  of  life  ;  but  if  this  end  is  duty,  there  are  no  cir- 
cumstances, however  painful,  Avhich  do  not  leave  room  for  the 
possibility  of  fulhlling  a  duty. 

It  is  a  sophism,  they  say,  to  call  suicide  a  cowardice ;  for  it 
requires  a  great  deal  of  courage  to  take  one's  life. — ^N'o  one 
denies  that  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  physical  courage 
coupled  with  taking  one's  life ;  but  there  is  a  still  greater 
courage,  a  moral  courage,  in  braving  pain,  poverty,  slavery. 
Suicide  is  therefore  a  relative  cowardice.  It  matters  not, 
moreover,  whether  suicide  be  a  brave  or  a  cowardly  act;  what 
is  certain  is,  that  man  cannot  destroy  within  himself  the  agent 
subject  to  the  law  of  duty  without  implicitly  denying  this  law 
and  all  there  is  within  contained. 

Finally,  it  will  be  said  that  the  moral  personality  is  distinct 
from  the  body,  and  that  in  destroying  the  body,  one  does  not 
injure  the  personality.  But  we  shall  answer,  that  the  only 
personality  of  which  Ave  can  dispose,  and  of  which  we  have 
the  care,  is  that  which  is  actually  i;nited  to  our  physical  body. 
It  is  that  very  personality  that  has  duties  to  perform ;  it  is 
that  which  we  cannot  sacrilice  to  a  state  of  things  absolutely 
unknown  to  us. 


230  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

As  to  our  duties  toward  others,  there  is  no  one  that  has 
absokitely  no  service  to  render  to  liis  fellow-men;  and  each  of 
us  is  always  able  to  render  them  the  greatest  of  services, 
namely,  to  give  them  the  example  of  virtue,  coui^ge,  gentle- 
ness, and  patience.  Finally,  in  respect  to  God,  if  we  look 
upon  life  as  a  trial,  man  has  no  right  to  free  himself  of  this 
trial  before  it  is  ended ;  if  Ave  look  upon  it  as  a  punishment, 
we  have  no  right  to  cut  short  its  duration  as  long  as  nature 
has  not  pronounced  on  it.  Can  we  not,  then,  it  is  asked, 
change  any  thing  in  the  order  of  tilings,  since  all  is  disposed 
by  God  1 — Certainly  we  can ;  we  can,  as  we  see  fit,  modify 
things,  but  not  persons. 

God,  it  is  said  again,  has  given  us  life:  we  can,  then,  do 
with  it  what  we  like. — But  life  is  not  purely  a  gift,  an  abso- 
lute gift :  it  is  bound  up  in  the  moral  personality  which  is  not 
in  our  power,  and  which  is  not  to  be  considered  a  thing  to 
traffic  with,  give  away,  or  destroy. 

Ti»  admit  the  legitimacy  of  suicide,  is  to  admit  that  man  be- 
longs to  himself  as  a  thing  belongs  to  its  master ;  it  is  implic- 
itly to  admit  the  right  to  traffic  Avith  one's  own  personality 
and,  according  to  Kant's  energetic  expression,  "  to  treat  one's 
self  as  a  means  and  not  as  an  end." 

135.  Suicide  from  a  sense  of  honor. — All  suicide,  having 
for  its  motive  the  escape  from  pain  (exception  being  made,  of 
course,  of  suicides  caused  by  insanity),  should  be  condemned 
without  qualification.  But  is  it  the  same  with  suicides  insti- 
gated by  a  feeling  of  honor,  either  to  avoid  an  outrage  one  is 
threatened  with,  or  to  escape  the  shame  of  an  outrage  one  has 
suffered  ? 

We  should  certainly  not  blame  too  severely  acts  that  have 
their  source  in  purity  and  greatness  of  soul,  and  in  such  mat- 
ters it  is  yet  better  to  forgive  the  excess,  than  accustom  one's 
mind,  by  too  cold  reasoning,  to  look  upon  dishonor  Avith 
patience  or  complacency.  After  all,  the  love  of  life  speaks 
enough  for  itself  without  its  being  necessary  to  give  it  too 
much  encouragement.       Nevertheless,  to  consider  the  matter 


DUTIES   TOWAKD    ONE'S   SELF.  231 

closely,  it  is  certain  that  no  one  is  responsible  for  acts  he  has 
not  consented  to ;  that,  consequently,  an  act  imposed  on  us  by 
force,  cannot  inflict  real  dishonor  ;  that  ill-natured  interpreta- 
tions should  have  no  weight  with  a  strong  mind,  and  that  con- 
science is  the  only  judge. 

"  We  should,"  says  St.  Augustih,  speaking  of  Lucretia's 
suicide,  "  resist  the  temptation  of  suicide  when  we  have  no 
crime  to  atone  for.  .  .  .  A\niy  should  a  man  Avho  has  done  no 
harm  to  another,  do  some  to  himself  1  Is  he  justified  in  kill- 
ing an  innocent  man  in  his  own  person,  to  prevent  the  real 
criminal  from  perpetrating  his  design,  and  would  he  crim- 
inally cut  short  his  own  life  for  fear  it  be  cut  short  by 
another  ? " * 

With  still  greater  reason  wiU  suicide  be  condemned  in  cases 
where  shame,  if  there  is  any,  can  make  reparation.  Let  us, 
for  example,  suppose  the  case  of  a  merchant  obliged  to  suspend 
payments.  This  suspension  may  be  caused  by  overwhelming 
circumstances,  as,  for  example,  unforeseen  physical  catastrophes, 
or  negligence,  imprudence,  or  even  dishonesty  on  the  part  of 
the  merchant.  In  the  first  case,  the  merchant  is  obviously 
innocent,!  and,  as  we  have  alread}'  remarked,  it  is  an  outward 
and  not  a  real  shame.  Instead  of  giving  way  before  a  misfor- 
tune, he  should,  on  the  contrarj'',  strive  against  it  and  find  in 
himself  the  means  to  repair  the  damage.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
it  is  through  his  own  fault,  througli  dissipation,  laziness,  etc., 
tliat  the  trouble  was  brought  about,  he  is  all  the  more  obliged 
to  make  honorable  amends,  and  by  his  courage  and  energy 
rehabilitate  himself.  If,  finally,  the  evil  is  still  graver,  if  he 
failed  through  lack  of  honor,  he  owes  it  to  himself  to  expiate 

*  St.  Augustin,  Cit-e'de  Dim,  I.,  xvii.,  trad.  d'Ein.  Saisset. 

t  One  wiU  say,  perhaps,  that  the  merchant  is  never  innocent,  for  he  should  have 
foreseen  the  risks  which  threatened  him,  and  provided  against  them.  But  there  is 
no  commerce  without  risks.  Tliere  is,  then,  a  certain  amount  of  risks  which  it  is 
allowed  and  even  necessary  to  run,  or  else  suppress  commerce  altogether.  For  ex- 
ample, a  merchant  in  times  of  peace  certainly  knows  that  there  may  suddenly  arise 
a  cause  of  war,  and  he  must  make  provision  against  the  eventuality  ;  but  if  all  his 
transactions  were  influencied  by  that  idea,  commerce  in  times  of  peace  would  not 
difler  from  commerce  in  times  of  war,  and  would  conseqTiently  be  null. 


2o.l  ELEMENTS    OF    MOEALS. 

his  fault,  for  in  trying  by  suicide  to  escape  a  merited  shame, 
he  only  eschews  a  well-deserved  punishment. 

Modern  conscience  refuses  even  to  admire  without  reserve, 
the  noblest  and  most  generous  of  suicides,  those,  namely 
occasioned  by  the  giief  over  a  great  cause  lost :  I  mean  Cato's 
suicide.  The  capital  error  of  this  kind  of  suicides  (laying 
aside  the  reasons  already  pointed  out),  is  to  think  that  a  cause 
can  be  lost.  On  the  one  hand,  there  is  never  any  reason  strong 
enough  to  persuade  any  one  that  what  is  lost  to-day,  is  defini- 
tively lost ;  and  if  each  of  those  Avho  belong  to  that  cause 
shoidd  kill  himself,  he  would  only  contribute  his  share  toward 
the  loss  of  that  cause.  Besides,  even  supposing  a  cause  to  be 
definitively  and  absolutely  lost,  the  honor  of  humanity  re- 
quires none  the  less  that  the  cause  be  faithfully  and  inviolably 
represented  to  the  end  by  its  adherents :  for  if  they  do  not 
serve  thereby  their  own  cause,  they  serve  at  least  that  of  loy- 
alty, fidelity,  and  honor,  which  is  the  highest  of  all.  Certainly 
an  act  as  impressive  as  Avas  Cato's,  shows  how  far  man  can 
carry  the  devotion  to  a  creed,  and  such  heroism  elevates  the 
soul :  thus  may  we  admire  it  as  an  individual  act,  but  not  as 
an  example  to  be  followed.  For,  although  it  presents  itself 
to  us  under  a  heroic  form,  it  is,  after  all,  notliing  but  an 
escape  from  responsibility. 

136.  Suicide  and  sacrifice. —  One  should  not  confound 
with  suicide,  the  voluntary  death — that  is  to  say,  the  death 
dared  and  even  sought  after  for  the  sake  of  humanity,  the 
family,  country,  truth.  Eor  instance,  Eustache  de  Saint 
Pierre  and  his  companions,  Curtius,  d'Assas,  voluntarily  sought 
or  accepted  death  Avhen  they  could  have  avoided  it.  Are 
these  suicides  ?  If  we  carried  the  matter  as  far  as  that,  all 
devotion  Avould  have  to  be  suppressed  altogether.  For  the 
height  of  devotion  is  to  brave  death ;  and  one  would  have  to 
condemn  even  the  man  who  exposes  himself  to  a  simple  peril, 
since  lie  lias  no  assurance  that  this  peril  may  not  lead  him  to 
death.  Dut  it  is  evident  that  the  suicide  deserving  condemna- 
tion is  that  which  has  for  its  source  either  selfishness,  or  fear. 


DUTIES  TOWARD   0:s'E's   SELF.  233 

or  a  false  sense  of  honor.  To  carry  tlie  sulyect  further  would 
be  sacriticing  other  more  important  duties,  and  giving  to  self- 
ishness itself  the  appearance  and  prestige  of  virtue. 

137.  Mutilations  and  mortifications. — Care  of  one's 
health. — One  of  the  obvious  consequences  of  the  duty  of  self- 
preservation,  is  to  avoid  voluntary  mutilations.  For  example, 
those  who  mutilate  themselves  to  escape  military  service,  fail 
iirst  in  their  duty  to  their  country,  and  next  in  their  duty  to 
themselves.  For,  the  body  being  the  instrument  of  the  soul, 
it  is  forbidden  to  destroy  any  part  of  it  without  necessity. 
This  is  partial  suicide. 

Must  we  count  among  the  number  of  voluntary  mutilations, 
the  religious  mortifications  or  macerations  by  which  the  devout 
manifest  their  piety  ?  If  it  can  be  proved  that  such  practices 
are  injurious  to  health,  it  is  certain  that  they  should  be  con- 
deroned  from  a  moral  point  of  view.  But  if  they  are  nothing 
more  than  self-imposed  privations  of  pleasure,  no  one  can  disap- 
prove of  them.  For  man  is  always  permitted  to  give  np  this 
or  that  pleasure.  Thus  abstention  from  animal-flesh  wliich  the 
school  of  Pythagoras  taught  its  adepts,  can  not  be  considered 
contrary  to  the  duty  of  self-preservation,  as  long  as  it  cannot 
be  demonstrateil  that  this  diet  is  unfcavorable  to  health. 

Besides,  this  duty  not  to  injure  one's  health,  must  itself  be 
understood  in  a  large  and  general  sense.  Otherwise,  taken  too 
strictly,  it  would  become  a  narrow  and  selfish  preoccupation, 
miworthy  of  man.  One  should  select  and  regularly  observe 
such  diet  as,  from  general  or  personal  experience,  would  seem 
most  suitable  to  the  preservation  of  health ;  but,  this  principle 
once  established,  precautions  too  minute  and  circumspect 
lower  man  in  the  estimation  of  others,  and,  if  nothing  more,  give 
him  a  tinge  of  the  ridicidous,  Avhich  he  ought  to  avoid.  One 
should  therefore  not  take  as  a  model  the  Italian  Cornaro,  who 
had  a  pair  of  scales  at  his  meals  to  weigh  his  food  and  drink, 
although  this  method,  it  is  said,  prolonged  his  life  to  a  hun- 
dred years.  The  learned  Kant  himself,  although  he  was  very 
high-mindeil,  carried  the  rules  he  had  laid  down  for  his  health 


234  ELEMENTS   OF   3:0RALS. 

to  extravagant  minuteness.  For  example,  in  order  to  spare 
his  chest,  he  had  made  it  a  rule,  never  to  breathe  through  his 
mouth  when  in  the  street,  and,  to  faithfully  observe  this  rule, 
he  always  Avalked  alone,  so  as  not  to  be  obliged  to  speak. 
Care  carried  to  such  minute  details  falls  into  a  sort  of  little- 
ness very  unbecoming  a  being  destined  for  higher  thoughts 
than  mere  physical  self-preservation.  One  may  say  of  such  ex- 
aggerated prudence  what  Eousseau,  though  most  inappropri- 
ately, said  of  medicine:  "It  prevents  illness  less  than  it  in- 
spires us  "with  the  fear  of  it ;  it  does  not  so  much  ward  off 
death  as  it  gives  us  beforehand  a  taste  of  it ;  it  Avears  life  out 
instead  of  prolonging  it ;  and  even  if  it  did  prolong  it,  it 
would  still  be  to  the  prejudice  of  the  race,  since  it  takes  us 
away  from  society  by  the  cares  it  lays  upon  us,  and  from  our 
duties  by  the  fear  it  inspires  us  Avith."  * 

But,  if  too  minute  attention  to  health  is  not  to  be  recom- 
mended, one  cannot  be  too  observant,  within  a  reasonable 
measure,  of  course,  of  the  obligation  to  follow  a  sensible  and 
moderate  diet,  Avhich  is  as  favorable  to  the  mind  as  it  is  to 
the  body.  Hygiene,  in  this  respect,  forms  no  inconsiderable 
part  of  morals. 

To  avoid  sitting  up  late ;  to  avoid  too  long  or  too  rich 
repasts ;  to  make  an  even  distribution  of  one's  time ;  to  get  up 
early  ;  to  dress  moderateh'^  warm  :  are  measures  recommended 
by  prudence  ;  this,  however,  does  not  exclude  the  liberty  of 
doing  away  Avith  these  rules  when  more  important  ones  are 
necessary.  The  principle  consists  in  not  granting  the  body 
too  much,  Avhich  is  the  best  means  of  strengthening  it. 

The  ancients  attached  a  A'ast  importance  to  the  strength  and 
beauty  of  the  body ;  and  for  tiiis  reason  they  encouraged  gym- 
nastics ;  these  Avere  an  essential  part  of  their  education.  This 
taste  for  physical  exercise  seems  to  be  reviving  at  the  present 
day  ;  it  enters  more  and  more  into  our  public  education,  and 
its  good  results  are  already  felt.  Men  should,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, reserve  some  time  and  leisure  for  such  exercises ;  for 

*  Rousseau's  Ernile,  I.,  i. 


DUTIES   TOWARD    ONE'S   SELF.  235 

they  not  only  impart  strength,  health,  and  skill  to  the  body, 
but  they  accustom  the  soul  to  courage,  preparing  it  by  degrees 
to  encounter  more  serious  perils ;  the  same  may  be  said  of 
military  exercises. 

138.  Cleanliness. — Among  the  virtues  belonging  to  the 
duty  of  self-preservation,  there  is  one  which  a  philosopher  of 
the  XVIII.  century  considered  the  first  and  the  mother  of  all 
the  others,  nainely,  cleanliness.  This  is  saying  much ;  and  it 
may  be  thought  that  Yolney,  in  his  moral  c-atechism,  exag- 
gerated somewhat  tliis  virtue.  It  is,  however,  one  of  very 
great  importance,  for  its  opposite  is  especially  repugnant. 
Cleanliness,  moreover,  in  addition  to  the  part  it  plays,  as  we 
know,  in  the  preservation  of  health,  is  often  indicative  of 
other  virtues  of  a  higher  order.  Cleanliness  presupposes 
order,  a  certain  delicacy  of  habits,  a  certain  dignity ;  it  is 
really  the  first  condition  of  civilization ;  wherever  we  meet 
Math  it,  it  announces  that  higher  wants  than  those  of  mere 
animality  have  been  or  are  soon  to  be  felt ;  wherever  it  is 
wanting,  we  may  be  certain  that  civilization  is  only  apparent, 
and  that  it  has  yet  many  deficiencies  to  supply. 

139.  Other  duties  in  regard  to  the  body. — Temper- 
ance.—We  have  just  seen  that  man  has  no  right  to  destroy  his 
body,  or  mutilate  it,  or,  in  short,  uselessly  to  reduce  or  enfee- 
ble its  power ;  in  a  word,  he  must  not  voluntarily  injure  his 
physical  functions  :  for,  in  impairing  himself  as  a  physical 
being,  he  thereljy  injures  his  personality,  which  is  the  prin- 
ciple of  all  morality.  But  there  are  two  things  to  be  distin- 
guished in  the  functions  of  the  human  body  :  on  one  side, 
their  utility,  and  on  the  other,  the  pleasure  which  attends 
their  healthful  exercise.  The  same  function  may  be  exercised 
with  more  or  less  pleasure  on  the  side  of  the  senses.  Hence 
a  moral  problem :  "VVliat  is  to  be  granted  to  the  pleasures  of 
the  senses  ? — Certainly  for  the  proper  exercise  of  their  func- 
tions a  certain  sensuous  agreeableness  is  necessary ;  a  good 
appetite,  for  instance,  is  a  pleasant  seasoning  which  excites 
and   facilitates   digestion.      Nevertheless,   we   all   know   that 


236  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

there  is  not  an  exact  and  continued  proportion  between  th3 
pleasure  of  the  senses  and  physiological  necessity  ;  we  know 
that  enjoyment  may  by  far  exceed  necessity,  and  that  health 
even  often  requires  a  certain  limitation  in  enjoyment. 

We  know,  for  example,  that  the  pleasures  of  the  palate  may 
be  far  more  sought  after  and  prolonged  than  is  necessary  for 
the  gratification  of  the  appetite.  Man  needs  very  little  to 
live  on ;  but  he  can  continue  to  tickle  his  palate  long  after  his 
hunger  is  satisfied.  Thirst,  in  particular,  has  given  rise  to  a 
multitude  of  refinements  invented  by  human  industry,  and 
wliich  are  but  very  distantly  related  to  the  principle  which 
has  given  them  birth.  Wine  and  alcoholic  drinks,  which, 
used  in  moderation,  may  be  useful  tonics,  are  stimulants  de- 
manding a  constant  renewal :  the  more  they  are  indulged  in, 
the  more  they  provoke  and  captivate  the  imagination. 

From  this  disproportion  and  incongruity  which  exist  be- 
tween the  pleasures  of  the  senses  and  the  real  wants  of  the 
body,  arise  vices,  certain  habits,  namel}^,  which  sacrifice  want 
to  pleasure,  and  the  consequence  of  which  is  the  depravation 
and  ruin  of  the  natural  functions.  Pleasure,  in  fact,  is,  in  a 
certain  measure,  the  auxiliary,  and  in  some  sort,  the  inter- 
preter of  nature  ;  but  beyond  a  certain  limit,  it  can  only 
satiate  itself  at  the  expense  of  the  legitimate  function,  and  by 
solidarity,  at  the  expense  of  all  the  others.  Thus  too  much 
eating  destroys  the  digestive  functions ;  stimulating  drinks 
burn  the  stomach  and  seriously  injure  the  nervous  system. 
The  same,  and  Avith  still  graver  consequences,  attends  upon 
the  pleasures  attached  to  the  function  of  reproduction. 

"Who  would,"  says  Lossuet,  "  dare  tliiidc  of  other  excesses  which 
reveal  themselves  in  a  still  more  dangerous  manner?  Who,  I  say, 
would  dare  speak  of  them,  or  dare  think  of  them,  since  they  cannot  be 
spoken  of  without  shame  nor  thought  of  without  peril,  though  it  be  but 
to  condemn  them  ?  0  God,  once  more,  who  would  dare  speak  of  this 
deep  and  shameful  jjlague  of  nature,  this  concupiscence  which  binds  the 
soul  to  the  body  with  bonds  so  tender  and  so  violent — bonds  man  can 
scarcely  defend  liimsclf  against,  and  which  cause  such  frightful  disorders 


DUTIES   TOWARD   ONE'S   SELF.  237 

among  the  human  race !  Woe  to  the  earth  !  woe  to  the  earth,  from  whose 
secret  passions  rise  continually  vapors  so  thick  and  black,  concealing 
from  us  both  sky  and  light,  but  of  which  we  are  reminded  through  the 
lightnings  and  thunder-bolts  they  send  forth  against  the  corruption  of 
the  human  race  !  "  * 

The  abuse  of  the  pleasures  of  the  senses  is  in  general  called 
.intemjyerance,  and  the  proper  use  of  these  pleasures,  temj^erancfi. 
Gormandizing  is  the  abuse  of  the  pleasures  of  eating ;  intoxi- 
cation or  drunkenness,  the  abuse  of  the  pleasures  of  drinking  ; 
immodesty  or  lust,  the  abuse  of  the  pleasures  attached  to  the 
reproduction  of  the  species.  The  opposites  of  these  tliree 
vices  are,  to  the  firot  two,  sobriety,  to  the  last,  chastity. 

The  duty  of  temperance  is  enforced  by  two  considerations  : 

1,  intemperance  being,  as  experience  shows,  the  ruination  of 
health,  is  thereby  contrary  to  the  duty  of  self-preservation  ; 

2,  intemperance  destroying  the  intellectual  faculties,  and 
making  us  unfit  for  any  energetic  and  manly  action,  is  con- 
trary to  the  duty  imposed  on  us  to  respect  our  moral  faculties 
and  protect  against  all  injury  Avithin  us  the  free  personality 
which  constitutes  the  essence  of  humanity. 

Kant  does  not  admit  that  tlie  iirst  of  these  considerations — 
that,  namely,  wliich  is  deduced  from  the  interest  of  our  health — 
has  any  validity  in  morals  :  "  Vice,"  he  says,  "  should  not  be 
judged  from  the  damage  it  does  to  man,  for  to  resist  it  would 
then  be  resisting  it  for  reasons  oi  comfort  and  commodity, 
which  could  never  be  a  principle  to  found  a  duty  on,  but  only 
a  measure  of  prudence."  This  is  true;  but  if  we  have  in  the 
foregoing  pages  established  that  self-preservation  is  one  of 
man's  duties,  that  he  should  not  destroy  his  health  or  abridge 
his  life,  an  evident  corollary  of  this  principle  is  to  avoid  in- 
temperance, because  intemperance  abridges  life.  This  con- 
sideration is  then  as  legitimate  from  the  standpoint  of  morality 
as  from  that  of  interest. 

The  ancients  have  spoken  ndmirablj^  about  temjicrance. 
Socrates   in   particular,   in  Xeuophon's  Memorabilia,  showed 

*  Bossuc't,  Tmiti  dc  la  concnjnsccncc,  Ch.  iv. 


238  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

clearly  that  temperance  makes  of  man  a  free  man,  and  in- 
temperance, a  brute  and  a  slave. 

"Tell  me,  Eutydemus,  thinkest  thou  not  that  liberty  is  a  precious 
and  honorable  thing  for  an  nidividual  and  for  a  State  ? — It  is  the  most 
precious  of  all. — Thinkest  thou  him  then  who  allows  himself  to  be  over- 
ruled by  the  pleasures  of  the  body,  and  thereby  disabled  from  doing 
good,  a  free  man  ? — Xot  the  least.  — Perhaps  callest  thou  liberty  the 
power  to  do  good,  and  servitude  the  being  prevented  from  it  by  obsta- 
cles.— Precisely. — The  intemperate  then  appear  to  thee  as  slaves? — Yes, 
by  Jupiter,  and  riglitly  so.  — What  thinkest  thou  of  masters  who  hin- 
der the  doing  good,  and  oblige  one  to  do  wrong. — It  is,  by  Jupiter,  the 
worst  possible  kind. — And  which  is  the  worst  of  servitudes  ? — To  my 
mind  that  which  subjects  us  to  the  worst  masters. — Then  is  intemper- 
ance the  worst  of  servitudes  ? — So  I  think."  < 

Plato,  on  his  side,  in  a  charming  picture  brings  out  "with 
force  the  insatiableness  of  sensual  passions  : 

"See,"  says  Socrates,"  "if  the  temperate  man  and  the  disorderly  man 
are  not  like  two  men  having  each  a  large  number  of  casks  :  the  casks  of 
the  one  are  in  good  condition  and  full,  one  with  wine,  another  with 
honey,  a  third  with  milk,  and  others  with  otlier  liquors  ;  these  liquors, 
moreover,  are  rare  and  hard  to  get ;  they  cost  infinite  trouble  to  obtain  ; 
their  owiier  having  once  fi^Ued  his  barrels,  pours  hencefortli  nothing 
more  into  them  ;  he  has  no  longer  any  anxiety  concerning  them,  and  is 
perfectly  at  ease.  The  other  can,  it  is  true,  procure  the  same  liquors, 
but  only  with  difficulty  ;  his  casks,  moreover,  being  leaky  and  rotten, 
he  is  obliged  to  fill  them  constantly,  day  and  night,  lest  he  be  de- 
voured by  burning  pains.  This  picture  being  an  image  of  both  lives, 
canst  thou  say  that  that  of  the  libertine  is  liappier  than  that  of  the 
temperate  man  ? " 

A.  second  consideration  which  may  be  added  to  the  pre- 
ceding one  is,  that  the  intemperate  man,  seeking  pleasure, 
does  not  find  it ;  pleasure  passionately  pursued  changes  even 
into  pain  :  "  Intemperance,"  says  Montaigne,  "  is  the  pest  of 
voluptuousness,  Avhilst  temperance  is  its  seasoning.  This  view 
of  the  matter  is  especially  that  in  which  the  epicurean  moral- 
ists delight ;  they  always,  in  morals,  compare  one  pleasure 
with  another;  but  it  also  holds  good  for  those  who  place  duty 
above  pleasure,  for  it  is  likewise  a  duty  to  prefer  a  pure,  simple, 


DUTIES   TOWARD    OXE's   SELF.  239 

delicate  pleasure,  to  a  violent,  disorderly,  or  vulgar  pleasure. 
From  this  standpoint,  we  may  say  with  Plato,  in  his  Philebus, 
that  the  purest  pleasures  are  not  the  strongest,  and  even  that 
the  stronger  and  more  ardent  a  pleasure  may  be,  the  nearer  it 
approaches  a  change  into  pain.  Now,  all  other  duty  set  aside, 
one  should  principally  seek  the  pleasures  which  are  not  mixed 
with  pain,  because  they  are  the  most  natural  and  the  most  le- 
gitimate of  all :  thus  is  it  that  the  pleasure  we  derive  from  a 
satisfied  appetite  is  a  proper  pleasure,  however  humble  it  be, 
Avhilst  the  pleasure  which  carries  with  it  satiety  and  disgust, 
indicates  by  that  very  fact,  that  it  is  against  nature,  or  at  least 
goes  beyond  nature.  Virtue  requires,  then,  that  we  prefer  the 
first  to  the  second. 

140.  The  pleasures  of  the  senses. — I>ut  provided  one  is 
content  with  moderate  pleasures,  is  it  allowed  to  enjoy  the 
pleasures  of  the  senses,  or  must  we  rather  turn  our  mind,  will, 
and  soul,  from  them,  and  rest  content  with  the  satisfied  want  1 
Montaigne,  that  naive  child  of  nature,  supports  the  first  propo- 
sition ;  Saint  Augustine,  the  apostle  of  free  grace,  advocates  the 
second.  "Nature,"  says  Montaigne,  "has  maternally  provided 
that  the  actions  she  enjoins  upon  us'for  the  satisfaction  of  our 
wants  be  also  pleasurable,  and  she  invites  us  thereto  not  only 
through  reason,  but  also  by  the  appetite :  it  is  not  right  to 
corrupt  her  rules."  Not  only  did  Montaigne  authorize  the 
pleasure  of  the  senses,  but  he  also  favored  one's  delighting  in 
it: 

"  It  should  be  fitly  studied,  enjoj'ed,  dwelt  upon,  to  show  ourselves 
Avorthily  thankful  to  him  who  dispenses  it.  .  .  .  To  that  degree,  did  I 
myself  follow  this  precept  that  in  order  that  the  pleasure  of  sleeping 
should  not  stupidly  escape  me,  I  found  it  well  in  former  days,  to  have 
myself  disturbed  in  my  sleep,  that  I  might  catch  the  feeling  of  it.  .  .  . 
Is  there  any  gi-atifi cation  of  the  .senses  ?  I  do  not  allow  them  to  have  it 
all  to  themselves  ;  I  associate  my  soul  with  it,  not  to  lose  itself  in  it,  but 
to  find  itself  in  it.  .  .  It  estimates,  thereby,  how  much  it  owes  God  for 
putting  the  body  at  its  own  disposal,  allowing  it  to  enjoy  in  order  and 
completeness  the  soft  and  agreeable  functions  whereby  it  pleased  him  to 
compensate  us  by  his  mercy  for  the  pains  his  justice  inflicts  on  us  in  its 
turn." 


240  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

St.  Augustine  looks  at  the  tliiiig  from  an  entirely  different 
standpoint : 

"Thou  hast  taught  me,  0  my  God,"  he  says,  "to  look  upon  food  as 
upon  a  remedy.  But  when  I  pass  from  the  suffering  of  hunger  to  the  re- 
pose of  satiety,  even  in  this  passage  from  the  one  to  the  other  does  con- 
cupiscence lay  its  snares  for  me  ;  for  this  passage  is  a  pleasure,  and 
tliere  is  no  other  means  to  rea«h  the  end  which  by  necessity  we  must 
reach.  And  although  real  hunger  and  thirst — eating  and  drinking  be 
but  a  matter  of  health,  yet  does  pleasure  join  itself  thereto  as  a  dan- 
gerous companion,  and  sometimes  it  even  takes  tlie  lead  and  induces  me 
to  do  from  a  sense  of  pleasure,  what  I  only  wish  to  do  for  my  health. 
AMiat  is  enough  for  health,  is  not  enough  for  pleasure,  and  it  is  often 
difficult  to  decide  whether  it  is  the  wants  of  the  body  that  require  to 
be  met,  or  the  deceiving  voluptuousness  of  concupiscence  Avliich  subju- 
gates us.  In  this  incertitude  our  miserable  soul  rejoices  because  she 
finds  therein  a  defense  and  an  excuse,  and,  not  kno\A-ing  what  is  sufficient 
for  the  maintenance  of  health,  she  places  the  interests  of  voluptuous- 
ness under  the  shadow  of  this  pretext.  Every  day  I  endeavor  to  resist 
its  temptations  and  invoke  thy  hand  to  save  me,  and  I  lay  at  thy 
feet  my  incertitudes,  because,  alas  !  my  resolution  is  not  yet  strong 
enough  " 

It  will  be  seen  that  the  two  moralists  use  both  the  same 
principle  (namely,  the  will  of  Providence)  to  arrive  at  entirely 
different  conclusions.  According  to  one,  pleasure  was  insti- 
tuted by  God  only  as  a  means  to  arrive  at  the  satisfaction  of 
bodily  wants.  It  is,  then,  this  satisfaction  alone  we  should 
have  in  view.  According  to  the  other,  God  allowing  necessity 
to  be  accompanied  by  pleasure,  invites  us  thereby  to  enjoy 
pleasure.  It  seems  to  us  that  the  two  moralists  fall  here  into 
an  excess:  for,  according  to  us,  Ave  should  not  too  much  dis- 
trust pleasure  nor  delight  in  it  too  mucli :  pleasure,  not  beuig 
an  evil  in  itself,  there  is  no  reason  why  Ave  shoidd  reproach 
ourselves  for  enjoying  it:  for  it  is  as  essential  to  the  nature 
of  our  being  as  life  itself.  "We  may  even  say  that  pleasure  is 
already  a  superior  degree  of  existence,  and  it  is  for  this  reason 
that  the  animal  is  found  to  be  superior  to  the  plant.  The 
scruples  of  St.  Augustine  in  regard  to  pleasure  are,  therefore, 
exaggerated.     On  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  approve  of  Mom 


DUTIES   TOWARD   OXE'S   SELF.  241 

taigne's  refinement  either ;  it  is  not  proper  to  bring  the  reflect- 
ive faculties  to  bear  upon  sensual  pleasures  in  order  to  en- 
hance them  :  to  have  one's  self  waked  up  in  order  to  take 
cognizance  of  the  sweetness  of  sleep  is  an  unjustifiable  refine- 
ment of  sensuality  imless  one  admits  pleasure  to  be  the  end  of 
life.  In  one  word,  it  is  necessary  here  to  avoid  at  the  same 
time  exaggerated  scruples  and  self-gratification,  as  occupying 
the  mind  more  than  is  necessary  with  what  has  but  a  very  in- 
ferior value.* 

Providence,  besides,  has  furnished  us  means  to  enhance  the 
pleasures  of  the  senses  by  mingling  with  them  the  pleasures  of 
the  mind  or  heart.  "Banquets,"  says  Kant,  "have,  besides 
the  physical  pleasure  they  procure  us,  something  that  tends  to 
a  moral  end,  namely,  to  bring  together  a  certain  number  of 
people,  and  to  maintain  among  them  an  extended  interchange 
of  kindly  feelings." 

And  this  austere  moralist  does  not  hesitate  to  lay  down 
certain  rules  which  should  preside  over  refined  festivities. 
"We  shall  be  pardoned  if  we  reproduce  here  some  of  his  witty 
remarks  on  that  subject.  "  The  good  cheer,"  he  says,  "  which 
best  accords  with  humanity,  is  a  good  repast  in  good  company  ; 
a  company  which  Chesterfield  says  should  not  fall  below  the 
number  of  the  Graces,  nor  exceed  that  of  the  Muses.  ...  On 
the  contrary,  large  assemblages  and  festivities  are  altogether 
in  bad  taste.  ...  To  eat  alone  is  unwholesome  for  a  philo- 
sophic scholar  :  it  is  no  restoration,  it  is  rather  exhaustion  ;  it  is 
a  labor,  and  not  a  play  revivifying  thought.  The  man  who 
eats  alone  loses  gi-adually  his  cheerfulness ;  he  recovers  it,  on 
the  contrary,  when  the  intermittent  jests  of  a  guest  give  him 
a  new  subject  of  animation  which,  alone,  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  discover."  Kant  further  requires,  "  that  the  re- 
past should  end  with  laughter,  which,  if  it  is  loud  and  hearty, 

*  We  may  apply  here  what  La  Bruyere  said  of  clothes  :  "  There  is  as  much  weak- 
ness in  avoiding  fashion  as  affecting  it.  A  philosopher  allows  his  tailor  to  dress  him." 
In  the  same  sense  is  there  as  much  weakness  iu  rebelling  against  pleasure  as  in 
seeking  it  too  artfully.  The  honest  man  simply  enjoys  it  without  thinking  of  it. 
Between  the  rigorist  and  the  sensualist,  the  sensible  man  has  his  place. 


242  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

is  a  sort  of  compliment  to  nature."  Then,  after  having  given 
rules  for  table-talk,  he  concludes  by  saying  :  "  However  insig- 
nificant these  laws  of  polite  society  may  appear,  especially  when 
compared  to  morality  properly  so  called,  they  are,  neverthe- 
less, a  garment  Avhich  becomes  virtue,  and  which  may  be  rec- 
ommended in  all  seriousness.  In  fact,  thanks  to  these  laws, 
sensual  pleasures  are  ennobled  and  increased  by  mixing  with 
them  intellectual  pleasures.  It  is  the  same  with  those  other 
pleasures  related  to  the  purest  and  noblest  sentiments  of  the 
heart,  and  which,  thanks  to  this  alliance,  may  be  reconciled 
with  perfect  chastity. 

141.  The  exterior  bearing. — Propriety. — Decorum. — 
Temperance  should  not  be  confined  to  the  inner  man  ;  it  should 
manifest  itself  outwardly  through  acts,  words,  through  proper 
bearing  and  attitudes :  this  is  what  is  called  decency ;  the 
principal  part  of  which  is  modest jj. 

"  We  must  not,"  says  Cicero,  "mind  the  cynics  and  certain  stoics 
who  turn  us  into  ridicule  and  reproacli  us  for  being  asliamed  to  speak  of 
things  that  have  nothing  shameful  in  themselves.  As  for  us,  let  us  fol- 
low nature,  and  abstain  from  all  that  might  wound  the  eyes  or  ears. 
Let  our  bearing,  gait,  our  looks,  gestures,  be  always  true  to  djpcency,  .  . 
There  are  two  things  to  be  avoided  :  soft  and  efferiimate  airs,  and  a 
boorish  and  uncouth  appearance. "  * 

The  ancients  justly  attached  great  importance  to  the  out- 
ward appearance  and  countenance ;  they  regarded  it  as  the 
sign  of  the  freeman. 

"There  are,"  says  Cicero,  "  two  kinds  of  beauty  :  the  one,  grace  ;  the 
other,  dignity.  Grace  belongs  to  woman,  dignity  to  man.  We  should, 
therefore,  interdict  ourselves  all  that  could  belie  that  dignity,  either  in 
dress,  beaiing,  or  gesture.  There  are  movements  among  our  wrestlers 
which  are  sometimes  displeasing,  and  certain  gestures  of  our  comedians 
which  are  somewhat  ridiculous  ;  they  would  both  recommend  themselves 
to  the  public  better  by  simplicity  and  decency.  One  should  be  neither 
uncouth  nor  over-refined  ;  in  regard  to  dress,  the  most  modest  is  the 
best.     Avoid,  likewise,  in  your  gait,  either  that  excessive  slowness  (re- 

*  Ciceron,  Traili  des  devoirs,  I.,  xxxiv. 


DUTIES   TOWARD   ONE'S   SELF.  243 

minding  one  of  the  imposing  gravity  of  sacred  pomps),  or  too  rancli 
haste,  which  is  a  sure  sign  of  light-headedness  and  thoughtlessness."  * 

These  counsels  will  not  appear  minute  to  those  who  know 
that  the  soul  is  always  ready  to  fall  in  with  the  body,  and 
that  the  inner  man  sets  himself  naturally  to  the  outer  man. 
Disorder  in  manners,  dress,  words,  bring  insensibly  with  them 
disorder  in  thought,  and  the  outward  dignity  is  but  the  re- 
flection of  the  dignit}'  of  the  soul. 

*  Cicero,  Traite  dcs  devoirs,  ch.  xxxvi. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

DUTIES    RELATIifG   TO   EXTEENAL   GOODS. 


SUMMARY. 

The  necessity  of  external  goods.— Two  sorts  of  duties. — 1.  Those 

relative  to  use  ;  2.   Those  relative  to  acquisitioH. 
Use  of  external   goods. — They  are  means    and    not   ends:  avarice, 
cupidity,  jn'odigality. 

It  is  not  the  degree  of  riches,  it  is  the  spirit  in  which  we  sock  or 
possess  them,  which  is  the  object  of  a  moral  rule. 
Economy,  a  mean  between  prodigality  and  avarice. 

Economy  and  saving  are  not  only  duties  of  self-preservation,  but  of 
di(jnity. 

Maxims  of  Franklin. — The  prodigal  and   the   miser,  according  to 
Aristotle. 
Acquisition    of  external  things.— Universal   law   of  work. — Servile 
and/rcc  work. — Nobility  of  work. 

Work  is  a  2)leasure,  a  necessity,  a  duty. 

142.  Necessity  of  external  goods. — External  goods  arc 
as  necessary  to  man  as  is  Lis  body  :  for  it  is  in  the  tirst  place 
a  fundamental  law  of  beings  physically  organized,  that  they 
only  subsist  by  moans  of  a  continual  exchange  of  their  com- 
ponent parts,  with  foreign  substances.  Life  is  a  circulation,  a 
vortex :  we  lose  and  acquire  ;  we  return  to  nature  what  it 
gave  us,  and  we  take  from  it  back  again  in  exchange  what 
we  need  to  repair  our  losses.  There  follows  from  this  that 
certain  external  things,  especially  food,  are  indispensable  to 
our  existence,  and  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  that  we  be  in 
sure  possession  of  them  in  order  to  be  ourselves  sure  of  life, 

Food  is  not  the  only  need  of  man.  Shelter  and  clothing, 
without  being  as  rigorously  indispensable  (especially  in  warm 


DUTIES  RELATING  TO  EXTERNAL  GOODS.     245 

countries),  are  nevertheless  of  great  utility  to  maintain  a  certain 
equilibrium  between  the  temperature  of  our  bodies  and  the  ex- 
ternal temperature  ;  for  it  is  well  known  that  the  derangement 
of  this  equilibrium  is  one  of  the  most  ordinary  causes  of  illness. 
Nature  not  having  clothed  man  as  she  has  the  other  animals, 
he  is  obliged  to  provide  himself  with  clothes  by  his  industry. 
As  for  habitations,  several  animals  know  as  well  as  man  how 
to  construct  them  :  for  example,  beavers  and  rabbits ;  and 
despite  the  indisputable  superiority  of  his  art,  this  is  yet,  as 
we  see  for  man,  but  the  development  of  an  instinct  which  he 
shares  with  other  creatures. 

These  various  wants,  then,  which  to  be  satisfied  demand  a 
certain  number  of  material  objects,  such  as  food,  houses,  cloth- 
ing, etc.,  carry  with  them  others  in  their  train :  for  example, 
the  need  of  locomotion  to  procure  what  is  wanted :  hence, 
carriages,  boats,  etc.; — the  need  of  protecting  one's  self  against 
those  who  would  take  from  us  what  w^e  possess  :  hence,  arms 
of  every  kind ; — the  need  of  repose  and  order  in  the  house  : 
hence,  furniture  of  every  sort ; — in  a  higher  degree  again  the 
need  of  pleasing  the  imagination :  hence,  works  of  art,  pic- 
tures, statuary  ; — the  need  of  information  :  hence,  books,  etc. 

Finally,  and  independently  of  all  these  different  things,  there 
are  yet  two  which  deserve  to  be  specially  noticed,  because  of 
their  particular  and  distinctive  character.  These  are,  first, 
land,  which  is  the  common  and  inexhaustible  source  of  all 
riches,  the  only  thing  that  does  not  perish,  and  which  is 
always  found  again  in  the  same  quantity  after  as  well  as 
before  the  enjoyment  of  it ;  land,  which  is  as  the  substance, 
the  very  basis  of  riches  ;  *  and  the  second,  money  (gold  or 
silver,  with  their  representative,  paper),  which  is  of  a  nature 
to  be  exchanged  against  all  kind  of  merchandise,  even  land, 
and  which,  consequently,  represents  them  all.  These  two 
kinds  of  things,  land  and  money,  the  one  an  essential,  the 
other  a  condensed  image,   of  all  wealth,  are   the  two  most 

*  We  nowise  moan  to  uphold  here  the  doctrine  of  the  physiocrats  for  whom  land 
was  the  only  riches  ;  wc  shall  merely  say  that  it  is  tlie  Uasis  of  all  wealth. 


246  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

natural  objects  of  man's  desires,  because,  with  the  one  or  the 
other,  he  can  procure  all  the  rest. 

We  have  not  to  examine  here  how  man  succeeds  in  securing 
to  himself  the  exclusive  enjoyment  of  these  several  goods  :  we 
shall  treat  the  subject  of  property  further  on,  and  shall  explain 
in  what,  and  why,  it  is  inviolable.  Let  it  suffice  to  say  here 
that  these  goods  being  bound  up  with  the  very  preservation 
of  our  existence,  the  desire  and  instinct  which  lead  us  to 
appropriate  them,  have  nothing  blameworthy  in  themselves. 

External  goods  being  necessary  to  life,  we  have  to  consider 
how  we  should  use  them  when  we  possess  them,  and  how 
acquire  them  when  we  do  not  possess  them. 

143.  Duties  relating  to  the  use  of  external  goods. — Cu- 
pidity.—Avarice. — From  the  very  fact  that  man  is  a  part  of 
nature,  it  manifestly  follows  that  he  is  allowed  to  make  his 
profit  of  the  goods  of  nature  and  to  turn  them  to  his  use.  The 
only  question  is  then  to  know  to  what  degree  and  in  what 
spirit,  he  should  love  material  goods,  and  what  use  he  is  to 
make  of  them,  not  in  regard  to  others,  but  in  regard  to  him- 
self. 

A  first  consideration  is  that  material  things  or  riches  have 
no  value  in  themselves;  they  are  only  worth  anything  as  they 
suit  our  wants.  Gold  and  silver,  in  particular,  are  only  a  value 
because  they  can  be  exchanged  against  useful  things,  and 
these  things,  again,  are  only  good  because  they  are  useful. 
They  are,  to  employ  Kant's  favorite  formula,  means,  not  ends. 
Now  we  precisely  overthrow  this  order  when  we  take  material 
things  as  ends  and  not  as  means — that  is  to  say,  when  we 
attribute  to  them  an  absolute  instead  of  a  relative  value.  This 
happens  when,  for  example,  we  seek  gain  for  gain's  sake  ; 
when  we  accumulate  riches  for  the  sole  pleasure  of  accumulat- 
ing them — a  vice  we  call  aqndity. 

It  is,  again,  what  happens  when  we  enjoy  wealth  for  itself, 
without  wishing  to  turn  it  to  use,  and  depriving  ourselves  of 
everything  to  enjoy  the  thing  itself,  which  has  no  other  value 
except  that  of  buying  other  things ;  a  vice  we  call  avarice. 


DUTIES   RELATING   TO   EXTERNAL    GOODS.  247 

The  character  of  these  two  vices  (a  character  which  is  not 
only  contrary  to  prudence,  but  also  to  virtue)  is  to  transform 
material  things  into  absolute  ends.  "  Avarice,"  says  Kant, 
very  justly,  "  is  not  only  economy  misunderstood,  but  a  servile 
subjection  to  the  goods  of  fortune  ;  an  incapacity  of  exercising 
mastery  over  them.  ...  It  is  not  only  opposed  to  generosity, 
but  to  liberality  of  sentiments  in  general — that  is  to  say,  to  the 
principle  of  independence  which  recognizes  nothing  but  the 
law,  and  becomes  thus  a  fraud  which  man  commits  against 
himself."  Cupidity  does  not,  at  first  glance,  appear  to  be  of 
so  shameful,  and  especially  so  ridiculous  a  character  as  avarice  ; 
for  avarice  is  a  contradiction  to  one's  self  (to  die  rather  than 
lose  that  which  can  only  serve  to  prevent  us  from  dying),  and 
viewed  in  that  light  it  becomes  a  comical  oddity.  But  the 
love  of  gain  for  gain's  sake  is,  no  less  than  avarice,  a  servile 
subjection  to  the  goods  of  fortune.  To  earn  money  is  a  neces- 
sity to  which  we  must  submit  (and  of  which  we  need  not  be 
ashamed,  since  it  is  nature  herself  that  requires  it),  but  it  is 
not,  and  should  not  be,  an  end  to  the  soul.  The  end  of 
wealth  (without  failing  in  the  duties  we  owe  to  ourselves) 
should  be  to  make  sure  of  the  means  of  self-preservation,  self- 
cidtivation,  education — yea,  even  recreation  ;  for  recreation  is  a 
thing  much  more  refined  and  noble  than  accumulation  of 
wealth.  In  one  word,  according  to  an  old  saying,  one  must 
possess  riches  and  not  be  possessed  by  them. 
-  Such  is  the  spirit  in  M'hich  man  should  seek  or  possess 
riches  ;  and  it  is  for  liim  a  strict  duty ;  but  as  to  the  degree 
and  limits  of  possession,  as  to  the  extent  or  quantity  of  riches, 
morality  gives  us  neither  rules  nor  principles.  There  is  no 
particular  limit  known  beyond  which  a  man  in  making  money 
would  become  immoral.  There  is  no  restriction  to  his  becom- 
ing a  millionaire  if  he  can.  A  morality  that  should  teach  to 
look  upon  the  rich  as  culpable,  would  be  a  very  false  one.  The 
contempt  for  riches,  such  as  the  ancient  philosophers  professed, 
is  a  very  beautiful  thing  in  itself ;  but  to  make  good  i;se  of 
wealth  is  also  very  praiseworthy.     Wealth,  which  in  itself 


248  ELEMENTS   OF   MOllALS. 

lias  no  value,  may  have  a  very  great  one  from  the  use  made 
of  it.  There  is,  therefore,  no  other  rule  to  be  observed  here 
than  the  one  we  have  already  pointed  out,  namely,  that  we 
should  not  love  money  for  itself,  but  acquire  it  or  receive  it 
as  a  means  to  be  useful  to  ourselves  "and  to  others.  Let  us 
add,  however,  that  even  with  this  motive,  we  should  not  enter- 
tain too  great  a  desire  for  gain  ;  *  for  to  take  too  much  pleasure 
in  accumulating  a  fortune,  even  to  make  a  good  use  of  it,  is 
again  another  way  to  become  its  slave. 

144.  Poverty. — The  duty  of  not  allowing  one's  self  to  be- 
come morally  a  slave  to  external  goods,  carries  with  it,  as  its 
corollary,  the  duty  of  bearing  poverty  jxatiently  if  circum- 
stances impose  it  on  us.  I  do  not  mean  here  the  strength  of 
soul  with  which  we  should  bear  adversity  of  any  kind  (wo 
shall  speak  of  that  further  on),  but  the  resignation  with  which 
we  should  look  upon  the  deprivation  of  certain  things,  which 
have  no  value  in  themselves.  The  poor  man  should,  of  course, 
endeavor  to  improve  his  condition  by  his  work,  and  Ave  are  far 
from  recommending  to  him  a  stupid  insensibility  which  Avould 
dry  u^r  the  sources  of  all  industry  ;  but  Avhat  we  should 
especially  guard  against  is  this  uneasy  discontent  and  power- 
less desire  Avhich  are  also  a  kind  of  slavery.  We  should  try  to 
be  satisfied  with  our  lot,  as  ancient  wisdom  has  it,  and  if  it 
requires  a  certain  amount  of  heroism  to  bear  extreme  misery, 
a  limited  share  of  wisdom  will  be  sufficient  to  enable  one  to 
accept  patiently  poverty  and  mediocrity. 

145.  Prodigality. — Maintaining,  as  we  have  done,  that 
riches  have  no  A'alue  in  themselves,  except  as  means  to  satisfy 
our  wants,  do  we  mean  thereby  tliat  they  are  to  be  spent  in- 
judiciously ? — and  would  not  that  appear  to  be  condemning 
saving  and  economy,  virtues  which  not  only  morality,  but 
wisdom  also,  recommends  ?  Shall  we,  in  order  to  avoid  cupid- 
ity and  avarice,  run  into  dissipation  and  prodigality  1 

•*  There  is  here,  again,  a  broad  duty,  for  how  can  we  interdict  to  a  merchant  the 
desire  for  gain  without  suppressing  one  of  the  incitements  to  his  activity  and  work  ? 
All  that  we  can  reconimend  to  liiiii  is  moderation,  and  not  to  sacrifice  to  this  incite- 
ment sentiments  of  a  liigher  order. 


DUTIES   RELATING    TO   EXTERNAL   GOODS.  219 

Let  us  first  observe  that  prodigality,  which  is  the  opposite 
of  avarice,  is  not  always  the  opposite  of  cupidity.  The  need 
of  spending  engenders  necessarily  the  need  of  obtaining  and 
gaining  as  much  money  as  possible  ;  and  the  prodigal,  if  he 
is  not  so  in  the  beginning,  very  soon  becomes  covetous, 
through  the  exhaustion  of  his  resources.  "  Most  prodigals," 
says  Aristotle,  "  become  greedy  and  grasping,  because  they 
always  wish  to  spend  at  their  will.  Their  own  resources  being 
soon  exhausted,  they  inust  needs  procure  others ;  and  as  they 
scarcely  take  thought  about  dignity  and  honor,  they  appro- 
priate without  scruple,  and  as  they  can."  We  should,  there- 
fore, not  view  prodigality  as  a  noble  independence  in  respect 
to  riches.  It  is  so  in  the  beginning,  in  fact,  with  young  rich 
people ;  but  they  soon  lind  out  the  limits  of  their  great  for- 
tunes, and  then  begins  their  slavery  in  respect  to  those  very 
goods  they  made  at  first  so  light  of. 

Prudence  and  our  own  interest  teach  us,  of  course,  suffi- 
ciently that  prodigality  is  a  stupid  vice,  and  that  it  is  absurd  to 
sacrifice  the  wants  of  to-morrow  to  the  pleasures  of  to-day. 
Simple  common-sense  advises  economy  and  saving.  But  for 
this  very  reason  may  we  ask,  with  Kant :  "  whether  they  de- 
serve the  name  of  virtues ;  and  whether  prodigality  even,  in- 
asmuch as  it  tends  to  an  unexpected  indigence,  should  not  be 
called  an  imprudence  rather  than  a  vice  1 "  We  shall  say  in 
reply  that  self-interest  well  understood  becomes  itself  a  duty 
when  in  opposition  to  passion.  For  instance,  if,  on  the  one 
side,  passion  lures  me  on  to  ])rocure  to  myself  a  certain  pleas- 
iire,  and  that,  on  the  other,  self-interest  shows  that  this  pleas- 
ure imperils  my  health,  it  is  certain  that  duti/  in  this  circum- 
stance commands  me  to  prefer  my  health  to  a  momentary 
pleasure.*    Prudence,  then,  is  but  the  exercise  of  a  more  gen- 

*  Kant  himself  recognizes  that,  self-interest  may  bet-ome  a  iluty  when  combated 
by  passion.  "To  secure  one's  own  happiness,"  he  says,  "is  at  least  an  indirect 
duty ;  for  he  who  is  dissatisfied  with  his  condition  may  easily,  in  the  midst  of  the 
cares  and  wants  which  besiege  him,  yield  to  the  temptiiticm  of  transgressing  his  du- 
ties. .  .  Therefore,  even  tliough  this  tendency  in  man  to  seek  his  happiness  did  not 
determine  his  will,  even  though  health  were  not,  for  him  at  least,  a  thing  to  be  taken 


250  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

eral  duty,  which,  if  not  the  basis,  is  at  least  the  condition  of  all 
the  others  :  the  duty  of  self-preservation. 

Economy  and  saving  are  not  only  a  duty  of  self-preserva- 
tion, but  also  a  duty  of  dignity:  for  experience  teaches  us 
that  poverty  and  misery  bring  us  into  the  dependency  of 
others  and  that  want  leads  to  beggary.  He  who  knows  how 
to  husband  his  means  of  existence,  secures  for  himself  in  the 
future  not  only  his  livelihood,  but  also  independence;  in  de- 
priving himself  of  fleeting  and  commonplace  pleasures,  he 
buys  what  is  far  better,  namely,  dignity. 

"Be  economical,"  says  Franklin,  "and  independence  shall  be  thy 
shield  and  buckler,  thy  helmet  and  crown ;  then  sliall  thy  soul  walk 
upright,  nor  stoop  to  the  silken  wretch  because  he  hatli  riches ;  nor 
pocket  an  abuse  because  the  hand  which  oilers  it  wears  a  ring  set  with 
diamonds." 

It  is  from  this  point  of  view  that  the  charming  and  witty, 
though  sometimes  vulgar,  precepts  of  poor  Kichard  may  be  re- 
garded as  moral  maxims,  and  shoiUd  have  access  to  all 
minds : 

"  If  you  would  be  wealthy,  think  of  saving  as  well  as  of 
getting." 

"A  fat  kitchen  makes  a  lean  will." 

"  What  maintains  one  vice  would  bring  up  two  children." 

"  Many  littles  make  a  mickle." 

"  Fools  make  feasts  and  wise  men  cat  them.  " 

"  It  is  foolish  to  lay  out  money  in  a  purchase  of  repent- 
ance." 

"  Silks  and  satins,  scarlet  and  velvets  put  out  the  kitchen 
fire." 

"  AVlien  the  well  is  dry,  they  know  the  worth  of  water." 

"  Pride  breakfasted  with  Plenty,  dined  with  Poverty,  and 
supped  with  Infamy."* 

account  of  in  his  calculations!,  there  woul<l  still  remain  in  this  ease,  as  in  all  others, 
a  law,  the  one,  namely,  which  commands  him  to  work  for  his  happiness,  not  from 
inclination,  but  from  a  sense  of  duty,  and  it  is  only  by  this  that  his  conduct  may 
have  a  rral  moral  value. 

*  Fi-anklin.     Poor  Ilichard^s  Abiuuiac. 


DUTIIS   RELATING   TO    EXTERNAL   GOODS.  251 

What  Franklin  has  depicted  with  greatest  force  and  elo- 
quence, is  the  humiliation  attached  to  debts,  a  sad  consequence 
of  the  want  of  economy.  There  is  a  kind  of  pride  which  is 
not  that  of  Rome  and  Sparta,  nor  of  the  courts  and  the  great, 
but  which  havS  not  the  less  its  price. 

"He  that  goes  a  borrowing,  goes  a  sorrowing.  Alas!  think  well 
what  you  do  when  you  run  in  debt ;  you  give  to  another  power  over 
your  liberty.  If  you  cannot  pay  at  the  time,  you  will  be  ashamed  to 
see  your  creditor  ;  you  mil  be  in  fear  when  you  speak  to  him  ;  you  will 
make  poor,  pitiful,  sneaking  excuses,  and  by  degrees  come  to  lose  your 
veracity,  and  sink  into  base,  downright  lying.  For  lying  rides  upon 
Debt's  baxJc.  A  free-born  man  ought  not  to  be  afraid  to  see  or  speak  to 
any  man  living.  But  poverty  often  deprives  a  man  of  all  spirit  and 
virtue.     It  is  hard  for  an  empty  bag  to  staitd  uirrigJd." 

We  should  then  avoid  so  to  subject  ourselves  to  material 
tilings  as  not  to  dare  make  use  of  them,  which  is  avarice ;  or 
to  spend  them  foolisldy  and  thus  render  ourselves  dependent 
upon  men,  which  is  prodigality.  Economy  lies  between  the 
two,  and  it  is  one  of  the  virtues  upon  which  Aristotle  has 
most  successfully  established  his  theory  of  the  golden  mean. 
Kant,  however,  does  not  agree  with  him  on  this  point. 
"  For,"  says  he,  "  if  economy  is  a  just  medium  between  two 
extremes,  then  should  we,  in  going  from  one  vice  to  the  op- 
posite vice,  have  to  pass  through  virtue :  the  latter  then 
Avould  be  notliing  more  than  a  lesser  vice."  According  to 
Kant,  it  is  not  the  measure  but  the  principle  which  may  serve 
to  distinguish  a  vice  from  a  virtue  :  the  one  is  distinguished 
from  the  other  not  quantitatively,  but  specifically.  The  two 
vices,  extremes  themselves,  prodigality  and  avarice,  namely, 
are  opposed  to  each  other,  not  only  in  degree,  but  in  kind. 
"What  is  prodigality  ?  "  It  is,"  says  Kant,  "  to  procure  means 
of  livelihood  with  a  view  to  the  enjoyment  only."  What  is 
avarice  ?  "  To  acquire  and  preserve  these  means  in  view  of 
possession  only,  interdicting  one's  self  the  enjoyment  thereof." 
These  two  qualities,  it  is  seen,  do  not  only  differ  from  each 
other  in  the  more  or  the  less,  but  in  their  very  nature.  There 
would  remain  next  to  ask,  what  is  the  quality  of  economy, 


252  ELEMENTS   OF    MOKALS. 

and  that  is  just  what  Kant  does  not  tell  us.  In  default  of  it, 
it  might  be  formulated  thus :  "  to  acquire  and  preserve  the 
means  of  livelihood,  not  for  the  sake  of  possession  or  enjoy- 
ment, but  for  present  or  future  need."  Only  there  remains 
still  the  difficulty  of  distinguishing  need  from  enjoyment. 
Where  does  legitimate  need  end  ?  Where  does  barren  enjoy- 
ment begin  ?  It  is  here  that  Aristotle's  f ormida  asserts  itself, 
and  that  "we  must  finally  come  to  recognize  that  the  virtue  of 
economy  consists  in  a  certain  medium  between  prodigality  and 
avarice. 

Yet  whatever  it  be,  we  cannot  better  close  this  subject  than 
by  citing  Aristotle's  admirable  description  of  the  prodigal  and 
the  miser :    La  Bruyere  shows  no  greater  acuteness  and  force. 

"The  prodigal  is  he  who  niins  himself  on  his  own  accord.  The 
senseless  squandering  of  his  property  is  a  sort  of  self-destruction, 
since  one  can  only  live  on  what  one  has.  Prodigality  is  the  excess  of 
gi'dng,  and  the  want  of  receiving ;  but  these  two  conditions  cannot 
very  long  keep  together  ;  for  it  is  not  easy  to  give  to  every  one,  when 
one  receives  from  no  one.  This  vice,  however,  should  not  appear  as 
blameworthy  as  that  of  avarice.  Age,  distress  even,  may  easily  enough 
correct  the  prodigal  and  bring  him  back  to  a  just  medium.  Thus  is  the 
nature  of  the  prodigal  on  the  whole  not  a  bad  one  ;  there  is  nothing 
vicious  or  low  in  this  excessive  tendency  to  give  much  and  take  nothing 
in  return  ;  it  is  only  folly.  It  is  true  that  prodigals  become  greedy 
and  grasping.  This  is  also  why  their  gifts  are  not  truly  liberal  .... 
why  they  enrich  some  people  who  should  be  left  in  poverty,  and  refuse 
doing  anything  for  others  far  more  deserving.  They  give  with  open 
liands  to  flatterers  or  people  who  procure  them  pleasures  as  unworthy 
as  those  of  flattery. 

' '  Avarice  is  incurable.  .  .  .  Avarice  is  more  natural  to  man  than 
prodigality  ;  for  most  of  us  prefer  keeping  what  we  have  than  giving  it 
away.  ...  It  consists  of  two  principal  elements :  defect  of  giving, 
excess  of  receiving.  .  .  .  Some  show  more  excess  of  receiving,  some 
more  defect  of  giving.  Thus  do  all  those  branded  by  the  name 
shabby,  stingy,  mean,  sin  through  a  defect  of  giving  ;  yet  do  they 
not  covet,  nor  would  they  take  what  belongs  to  others.  .  .  .  Other 
misers,  on  the  contrary,  may  be  known  by  their  grasping  propen- 
sities, taking  all  they  can  get :  for  example,  all  those  who  engage  in 
ignoble  speculations  .  .  .  usurers  and  all  those  who  lend  small  sums 
at  large  interest.     All  these  people  take  where  they  should  not  take, 


DUTIES   EELATING   TO    EXTERNAL   GOODS.  ?53 

and  more  than  they  ought  to  take.  Lust  for  the  most  shameful  lucre 
seems  to  be  the  common  vice  of  all  degi'aded  hearts  :  there  is  no  infamy 
they  are  not  willing  to  endure,  if  they  can  make  it  a  profit."  * 

146.  Duties  relating  to  the  acquisition  of  external  things. 
— Work. — The  necessity  of  procuring  the  things  needful  to 
life  imposes  on  us  a  fundamental  obligation,  which  continues 
even  when  the  want  is  met :  it  is  the  obligation  of  icorh. 

Work  springs  from  want ;  this  is  its  first  origin  ;  but  it 
survives  want ;  and  its  beauty  and  dignity  consist  in  that, 
being  at  first  born  of  a  natural  necessity,  it  becomes  the  honor 
of  man  and  the  salvation  of  society. 

In  its  most  general  sense,  work  means  activity,  and  in  that 
sense  it  may  be  said  that  everything  works  in  nature ;  every- 
thing is  in  motion  ;  everywhere  Ave  see  effort,  energy,  unfold- 
ing of  forces.  Take  but  the  animals  :  the  bird  works  to  build 
its  nest ;  the  spider  to  weave  its  web  ;  the  bee  to  make  her 
honey ;  the  beaver  to  construct  its  lodges  ;  the  dog  to  catch 
the  game ;  the  cat  to  catch  mice.  We  find  among  animals 
workmen  of  all  sorts  :  masons,  architects,  tailors,  hunters, 
travelers ;  even  politicians  and  artists,  as  if  they  had  been 
destined  to  set  us  examples  in  all  kinds  of  work  and  activity. 

"  In  the  morning,"  says  Marcus  Aurelius,  "  when  thou  hast  trouble 
in  getting  up,  say  to  thyself :  I  awake  to  do  the  work  of  a  man  :  why, 
then,  should  I  grieve  for  having  to  do  things  for  which  I  am  born,  for 
which  I  was  sent  into  the  world  ?  Was  I  born  to  remain  warmly  in  bed 
under  my  cover  ? — But  it  is  so  pleasant. — Wert  thou  born  for  pleasure, 
then  ?  Was  it  not  for  action,  for  work  ?  Seest  thou  not  the  plants, 
the  sparrows,  the  ants,  the  spiders,  the  bees,  filling  each  their  functions, 
and  contributing  according  to  their  capacity  to  the  harmony  of  the 
world  ?  And  shouldst  thou  refuse  to  attend  thy  functions  as  man  ? 
Shouldst  thou  not  follow  the  biddings  of  nature  ?  "  t 

The  ancients  distinguished  two  kinds  of  work  :  noble  and  in- 
dependent work,  namely,  the  arts,  the  sciences,  war  and 
politics  ;  and  servile  or  mercenary  work  imposed  by  necessity. 
The  latter  they  deemed  below  the  dignity  of  man ;  manual 

*  Aristotle,  Nichomachean  Ethics,  iv.,  i. 

t  Meditations  of  Marcus  Aurelius  Antoninus,  v.,  i. 


254  ELEMENTS    OF   MOKALS. 

labor,  properly  so  called,  useful  work,  distinct  from  gymnastic? 
and  military  exercises,  they  considered  as  belonging  exclu- 
sively to  slaves.    It  is  to  this  Aristotle  referred  Avhen  he  said  : 

"There  are  men  who  have  but  just  the  necessary  amount  of  reason  to 
understand  the  reason  of  others  :  Lt  is  they  whose  only  work  is  useful 
manual  labor.  It  is  obvious  that  such  men  cannot  belong  to  them- 
selves ;  they  belong  necessarily  to  others  ;  they  are  slaves  by  nature." 

Aristotle  believed,  moreover,  that  nature  herself  had  made 
the  distinction  between  the  freeman  and  the  slave : 

"Nature,"  he  said,  "made  the  bodies  of  the  freemen  different  from 
those  of  the  slaves  ;  she  gave  to  the  latter  the  necessary  vigor  for  the 
heavy  work  of  society,  and  made  the  former  unable  to  bend  their  erect 
natures  to  sucli  rude  labors. "  * 

It  is  not  necessary  to  have  lived  to  this  present  time  to 
find  these  errors  refuted.  Before  Aristotle,  Socrates  had 
already  understood  the  dignity  of  labor,  even  of  the  productive 
labor  insuring  a  livelihood ;  he  had  seen  that  work  in  itself 
was  not  servile,  as  the  following  charming  account  related  by 
Xenophon,  well  proves  : 

"  Socrates,  observing,  on  one  occasion,  Aristarchus  looking 
gloomily,  '  You  seem,'  said  he,  '  Aristarchus,  to  be  taking 
something  to  heart ;  but  you  ought  to  impart  the  cause  of  your 
uneasiness  to  your  friends  ;  for,  perhaps,  we  may  by  some 
means  lighten  it.' 

"  '  I  am  indeed,  Socrates,'  replied  Aristarchus,  '  in  great  per- 
plexity ;  for  since  the  city  has  been  disturbed,  and  many  of 
our  people  have  fled  to  the  I'iraeus,  my  surviving  sisters  and 
nieces  and  cousins  have  gathsred  about  me  in  such  numbers, 
that  there  are  now  in  my  house  fourteen  free-born  persons. 
At  the  same  time,  we  receive  no  profit  from  our  lands,  for  the 
enemy  are  in  possession  of  them ;  nor  any  rent  from  our 
houses,  for  but  few  inhabitants  are  left  in  the  city  ;  no  one 
will  buy  our  furniture,  nor  is  it  possible  to  borrow  money 
from  any  quarter  ;  a  person,  indeed,  as  it  seems  to  me,  would 

*  Aristotle,  Politics,  i.,  ii. 


DUTIES    UEL^TIKG  TO    EXTERNAL   GOODS.  255 

sooner  find  money  by  seeking  it  on  the  road,  than  get  it  by 
borrowing.  It  is  a  grievous  thing  to  me,  therefore,  to  leave 
my  relations  to  perish ;  and  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  support 
such  a  number  under  such  circumstances.'  Socrates,  on  hearing 
this,  replied :  '  Are  you  not  aware  that  Cyrebus,  by  making 
bread,  maintains  his  whole  household  and  lives  luxuriously ;  that 
Demea  supports  himself  by  making  cloaks,  Menon  by  making 
woolen  cloaks,  and  that  most  of  the  INIegarians  live  by  mak- 
ing mantles?'  'Certainly  they  do,'  said  Aristarchus;  'for 
they  purchase  barbarian  slaves  and  keep  them,  in  order  to 
force  them  to  do  what  they  please  ;  but  I  have  with  me  free- 
born  persons  and  relatives.'  '  Then,'  added  Socrates,  '  be- 
cause they  are  free  and  related  to  you,  do  you  think  that  they 
ought  to  do.  nothing  else  but  eat  and  sleep  1  Do  you  find  that 
idleness  and  carelessness  are  serviceable  to  mankind,  either  for 
learning  what  it  becomes  them  to  know,  or  for  remembering 
what  they  have  learned,  or  for  maintaining  the  health  and 
strength  of  their  bodies,  and  that  industry  and  diligence  are 
of  no  service  at  all  1  And  as  to  the  arts  which  you  say  they 
know^,  did  they  learn  them  as  being  useless  to  maintain  life, 
and  with  the  intention  of  never  practicing  any  of  them,  or, 
on  the  contrary,  with  a  view  to  occupy  themselves  about  them, 
and  to  reap  profit  from  them  1  In  which  condition  will  men 
be  more  temperate,  living  in  idleness  or  attending  to  useful 
employments  1  In  which  condition  will  they  be  more  honest, 
if  they  work,  or  if  they  sit  in  idleness  meditating  how  to  pro- 
cure necessaries V  'By  the  gods,'  exclaimed  Aristarchus, 
'you  seem  to  me  to  give  such  excellent  advice,  Socrates,  that 
though  hitherto  I  did  not  like  to  borrow  money,  knowing  that, 
when  I  had  spent  what  I  got,  I  should  have  no  means  of 
repaying  it,  I  now  think  that  I  can  endure  to  do  so,  in  order 
to  gain  the  necessary  means  for  commencing  work.' 

"  The  necessary  means  were  accordingly  provided  ;  wool  was 
bought ;  and  the  women  took  their  dinners  as  they  continued 
at  work,  and  supped  when  they  had  finished  their  tasks ;  they 
became    cheerful    instead   of   gloomy   in   countenance,    and. 


25G  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

instead  of  regarding  each  other  with  dislike,  met  the  looks  of 
one  another  with  pleasure  ;  they  loved  Aristarclms  as  their 
protector,  and  he  loved  them  as  being  of  use  to  him.  At  last 
he  came  to  Socrates,  and  told  him  with  delight  of  the  state  of 
things  in  the  house ;  adding  that,  '  the  women  complained  of 
him  as  being  the  only  person  in  the  house  that  ate  the  bread 
of  idleness.'  '  And  do  you  not  tell  them,'  said  Socrates, 
'  the  fable  of  the  dog  ?  For  they  say  that  when  beasts  had 
the  faculty  of  speech,  the  sheep  said  to  her  master  :  "  You  act 
strangely,  in  granting  nothing  to  us  who  supply  you  with 
wool,  and  lambs,  and  cheese,  except  what  we  get  from  the 
ground  ;  while  to  the  dog,  who  l^rings  you  no  such  profits, 
you  give  a  share  of  the  food  which  you  take  yourself." 

"  The  dog  hearing  these  remarks,  said,  '  And  not  indeed 
without  reason  :  for  I  am  he  that  protects  even  yourselves,  so 
that  you  are  neither  stolen  by  men,  nor  carried  off  by  wolves ; 
while,  if  I  were  not  to  guard  you,  you  would  be  unable  even 
to  feed,  for  fear  lest  you  should  be  destroyed.'  In  conse- 
quence it  is  said  that  the  sheep  agreed  that  the  dog  should 
have  superior  honor.  You,  accordingly,  tell  your  relations 
that  you  are,  in  the  place  of  the  dog,  their  guardian  and  pro- 
tector, and  that,  by  your  means,  they  work  and  live  in  security 
and  pleasure,  without  suffering  injury  from  any  one.'  "  * 

If  it  is  unjust  to  regard  manual  and  productive  work  as 
servile,  it  is  equally  unjust  to  regard  them  as  alone  entitled  to 
the  name  of  work. 

"There  are,"  says  a  Chinese  sage,  "two  kinds  of  work  :  some  peo- 
ple work  with  their  minds  ;  some  with  their  hands.  Those  who 
M'ork  with  their  minds  govern  men;  those  who  work  with  their  hands 
are  governed  by  men.  Those  who  are  governed  by  men  feed  men  ;  those 
who  govern  men  are  fed  by  men. "  t 

The  same  author  shows  further  how  divers  functions  are 
necessarily  divided  in  society. 

*  Xenoplion's  Memorabilia  of  Socrates,  Bohn's  translation,  by  Rev.  J.  S.  Watson, 
M.A.,  II.,  vii. 

t  Confucius  and  Mencius,  Pauthier's  translation,  p.  303. 


DUTIES   RELATING  TO   EXTERNAL  GOODS.  257 

"  The  holy  man  said  to  his  brother  :  Go  and  comfort  men;  call  them 
to  thee;  bring  them  back  to  virtue;  correct  them,  help  them;  make 
them  prosper.  In  thus  busying  themselves  with  the  welfare  of  the 
people,  could  these  holy  men  find  leisure  to  engage  in  agriculture  ?  " 

We  must,  therefore,  admit  that  all  activity  usefully  em- 
ployed is  work,  and  that  all  work,  whether  manual  or  intellec- 
tual, mercenary  *  or  gratuitous,  is  noble  and  legitimate. 

Work  being  taken  in  its  most  general  sense,  may  be  set 
down  as  being  a  pleasure,  a  Tiecessity,  a  duty. 

Kant,  who,  as  we  have  seen,  refuses  to  admit  in  morals  any 
other  principle  but  that  of  duty,  Avould  probably  disagree  with 
us  when  we  say  that  work  is  a  pleasure  and  a  necessity.  But  if 
it  be  true,  why  should  we  not  say  so  ?  Is  it  necessary,  in  or- 
der that  the  duty  of  work  be  truly  accomplished,  that  it  be 
both  painful  and  useless?  Wisdom  nowise  requires  this. 
Providence  having  attached  to  work,  whilst  making  it  the 
necessary  condition  of  our  self-  preservation,  a  certain  pleas- 
ure, lightening  thereby  our  efforts,  morality  nowise  forbids  us 
to  enjoy  this  pleasure  and  accept  this  necessity. 

It  will  be  easily  granted  that  work  is  a  necessity ;  but  it  is 
more  difficult  to  obtain  from  men  the  admission  that  it  is  a 
pleasure,  Man,  if  he  will  not  die  of  hunger,  must  work, 
unquestionably,  they  will  say  ;  but  that  it  is  a  pleasure  is 
quite  another  thing. 

If  the  pleasure  of  work  is  put  to  question,  no  one  at  least 
will  maintain  that  it  is  a  pleasure  not  to  work.  For  when  does 
rest,  leisure,  recreation  give  us  most  pleasure  1  Everybody 
knows,  it  is  when  we  have  worked.  Recall  to  mind  any  un- 
usually heavy  work,  any  hurried  and  necessary  task,  or  even 
our  daily  or  weekly  duty  scrupulously  fulfilled  :  what  joy  is 
it  not  when  the  task  is  done  to  give  ourselves  a  holiday ! 

Idleness  brings  with  it  satiety,  weariness,  disgust,  disorder, 

*  The  word  mercenary  has  always  had  an  unfavorable  meaning  attached  to  it,  a 
relic  of  ancient  prejudice.  In  the  proper  sense,  mercenary  means  remunerative,  and 
should  have  no  condemnatory  signification.  Yet  already  in  antiquity  the  word  mer- 
cenary  had  a  higher  sense  than  the  word  servile ;  for  Cicero,  wishing  to  say  that  one 
should  treat  one's  slaves  well,  said  tliat  they  should  be  treated  as  mercenaries —that 
is  to  say,  as  men  remunerated  but  free. 


258  ELEMENTS  OF   MORALS. 

the  ruin  of  the  family,  the  destruction  of  health,  and  other 
evils  still  more  baleful.  Work,  on  the  contrary,  makes  repose 
enjoyable.  Without  the  fatigue  of  the  day's  work,  no  pleas- 
ure in  sleep,  and  even  no  sleep  at  all.  A  manifest  proof  that 
Providence  did  not  intend  us  for  repose,  but  for  action,  for 
effort,  for  struggle,  for  energetic  and  constant  work. 

We  should  even  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  work  is  not  only  a 
stimulant,  but  that  it  is  in  itself  a  pleasure  and  a  joy. 

There  is,  in  the  first  place,  the  joy  of  self-love.  We  all  ex- 
perience joy  when  we  have  accomplished  something ;  when  we 
have  succeeded  in  a  difficult  work,  and  the  more  difficult  it 
was,  the  prouder  we  are  of  it.  Besides,  the  exercise  which 
accompanies  activity  is  in  itself  a  great  good.  The  unfolding 
of  strength,  physical  or  moral,  is  the  source  of  the  truest  pleas- 
ures. Activity  is  life  itself :  to  live,  is  to  act.  Work,  again, 
gives  us  the  pleasure  which  accompanies  any  kind  of  struggle  : 
in  working  we  struggle  against  the  forces  of  nature,  we  subdue 
them,  discipline  them,  we  teach  them  to  obey  us.  Unquestion- 
ably the  first  efforts  are  painful :  but  when  once  the  first  diffi- 
culties are  overcome,  work  is  so  little  a  fatigue  that  it  becomes 
a  pleasant  necessity.  One  is  even  obliged  to  make  an  effort 
to  take  rest.  Yes,  after  having  in  cliildhood  had  trouble  to 
get  accustomed  to  work,  what  in  the  long  run  becomes  the 
most  difficult,  is  not  to  work.  One  is  almost  obliged  to. fight 
against  himself,  to  force  himself  to  recreation  and  rest. 
Leisure  in  its  turn  becomes  a  duty  to  which  we  almost  submit 
against  our  will,  and  only  because  reason  bids  us  to  submit  to 
it ;  for  we  know  that  Ave  must  not  abuse  the  strength  Provi- 
dence has  entrusted  to  us. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  dwell  long  on  this  point  to  fix  in  our 
memory  that  work  alone  insures  security  and  comfort.  Cer- 
tainly it  does  not  always  secure  them  ;  this  is  unfortunately 
too  true  ;  but  if  Ave  are  not  quite  sure  that  by  Avorking  Ave 
can  provide  for  Avife  and  children,  and  secure  a  legitimate 
rest  for  our  old  age,  Ave  may,  on  the  other  hand,  be  quite  sure 
iliat  Avithout  Avork  Ave  shall   bring  upon   ourselves  and  'our 


DUTIES   KELATIXG   TO   EXTERNAL   GOODS.  259 

family  certain  misery.  Tliere  Iiave  not  yet  been  found  any 
means  whereby  wealth  may  be  struck  out  of  the  earth  with- 
out work.  This  wealth  which  dazzles  our  eyes  ;  these  palaces, 
carriages,  splendid  dresses,  this  furniture,  luxury,  all  these 
riches  and  others  more  substantial :  machinery,  iron-works, 
land  produce,  all  this  is  accumulated  work.  Between  the 
condition  of  savages  that  wander  about  famished  in  the  forests 
of  America,  and  the  condition  of  our  civilized  societies,  there 
is  no  other  difference  but  work.  Suppose  (a  thing  impos- 
sible) that  in  a  society  like  this  our  own,  aU  work  should 
all  at  once  be  stopped :  distress  and  hunger  would  be  the 
immediate  and  inevitable  consequence.  Spain,  on  discovering 
the  gold  mines  of  America,  thought  herself  enriched  forever ; 
she  ceased  work  ;  it  was  her  ruin  ;  for  from  being  Europe's 
sovereign  mistress,  as  she  then  was,  she  fell  to  the  rank  we  see 
her  occupy  to-day.  Laziness  brings  with  it  misery ;  misery 
beggary,  and  beggary  is  not  always  satisfied  with  asking  merely 
— it  steals. 

Work  is  not  only  a  pleasure  or  a  necessity,  it  is  also  a  duty  ; 
though  painful  and  joyless,  work  is,  nevertheless,  an  obliga- 
tion for  man ;  it  were  still  an  obligation  for  Mm  if  he  could 
live  without  it.  Work  does  not  only  insure  security  :  it  se- 
cures dignity.  Man  was  created  to  exercise  the  faculties  of 
his  mind  and  body.  He  was  created  to  act.  I  do  not  speak 
here  of  Avhat  he  owes  to  others,  but  of  what  he  owes  to  him- 
self. "The  happy  man,"  says  Aristotle,  "is  not  the  man 
asleep,  but  the  man  awake,"  and  to  be  awake  is  to  work  and 
act. 


CHAPTEE    XIIT. 

DUTIES  RELATING  TO  THE  INTELLECT. 


SUMMARY. 

Duties  relative  to  the  investigation  of  trutii. — Of  intellectual  vir- 
tues :  that  there  are  such. 

Of  the  three  forms  of  the  intellect:  si)eculative,  critical,  practical. 
Hence,  three  principal  qualities  :  knowledge,  judgment  or  good  sense, 
jntcdence. 

Of  knowledge. — Refutation  of  the  objections  to  knowledge  :  Nicole, 
Malebranche  and  Rousseau. 

General  duty  to  cultivate  one's  intellect :  the  impossibility  of  de- 
termining the  full  range  of  this  duty. 

(rOod  sense  or  judgment. — Errors  committed  in  ordinary  life  :  soph- 
isms of  self-iove,  interest,  and  pa.ssion. — Other  sophisms  founded  on 
false  ajipearances. — Logical  rules. 

Of  prudence  or  practical  wisdom.  — Can  it  be  called  a  virtue  ?     Par- 
ticular rules. 
Duties  relative  to  telling  the  truth.— Lying.— Two  kinds  of  lies  :  in- 
ward and  outward  lying. 

Inward  lying. — Can  one  lie  to  himself?     Examples. 

Of  the  lie  properly  so-called. — How  and  why  it  lowers  the  mind. 

Of  silence. — To  distinguish  between  dissimulation  and  discretion. 

Duty  of  silence  :  in  what  cases  ? 

Of  the  oath  and  of  perjury. — Perjury  is  a  double  lie. 

The  different  duties  of  man  toward  himself,  considered  as  a 
moral  being,  are  naturally  deduced  from  the  divers  faculties  of 
Avhich  this  moral  being  is  composed.  Plato  is  the  first,  to  our 
knowledge,  who  has  employed  this  mode  of  deduction.*  It 
is  after  having  distinguished  three  parts  or  three  faculties  in 

♦  Plato,  Republic,  i.,  ii. 


DUTIES   KELATING   TO   THE    IXTELLECT.  261 

the  soul,  that  he  attributes  to  each  of  them  a  virtue  proper, 
"  virtue  being,"  he  says,  "  the  quality  by  means  of  which  one 
does  a  thing  well."  It  is  thus  that  the  virtue  of  wisdom  cor- 
responds to  the  faculty  of  the  understanding ;  the  virtue  of 
courage  to  the  irascible  or  courageous  faculty,  or  to  the  heart ; 
temperance,  to  that  of  desire  or  appetite.  To  these  three 
virtues,  Plato  adds  another  which  is  but  the  harmony,  the 
accord,  the  equilibrium  between  these,  namely,  justice. 
Cicero  afterwards  took  up  this  deduction  from  another  stand- 
point.* 

In  applying  this  ancient  method  to  the  present  divisions  of 
psychology,  we  shall  admit,  with  Plato  and  Cicero,  an  order  of 
virtues  relative  to  the  mind,  and  which  we  will  call  wisdom;  and 
another  class  of  virtues  relating  to  the  will,  and  which  would 
correspond  with  courage  or  strength  of  mind  {virtus,  magnitudo 
animi).  As  to  sensibility,  if  we  take  into  consideration  the 
appetites  and  physical  desires,  the  virtue  relating  to  them  is 
temperance,  of  which  we  have  already  spoken.  There  remain 
the  emotions,  the  affections  of  the  heart  Avhich  relate  more 
particularly  to  the  duties  toward  others.  Yet  they  may,  in  a 
certain  respect,  be  also  considered  as  duties  toward  one's  self, 
although  language  does  not  designate  this  kind  of  virtue  by  a 
particular  name,  f 

147.  Dulles  relative  to  the  investigation  of  truth.— /^feZ- 

lectual  virtues. — There  are  two  classes  of  virtues  which  have 
been  often  distinguished :  the  strict  duties  and  the  hroad 
duties  :  the  strict  duties  to  consist  in  not  injuring  one's  facul- 
ties ;  the  broad,  to  develop  and  perfect  them ;  it  is  not  easy 
to  apply  this  distinction  here ;  and,  concerning  intelligence,  to 
separate  self-preservation  from  self-improvement.  In  such  a 
case,  not  to  gain  is  inevitably  to  lose ;  he  who  does  not  culti- 
vate his  intellect,  impairs  it  by  that  very  fact. 

^  See  his  De  Officiis,  i.,  iv. 

t  It  might  be  railed  sensibility,  i.i  the  sense  this  word  had  in  the  XVIII.  centurj'. 
It  is  not  enough  to  be  human  toward  others,  one  owes  some  feeling  to  one's  self 
also. 


202  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

One  could  not  then,  without  pedantic  investigation  and 
subtlety,  try  to  distinguish  here,  in  one  and  the  same  duty, 
two  distinct  duties  :  the  one  prohibitive,  the  other  imperative. 
They  are  both  Ijound  up  in  the  general  duty  to  cultivate  one's 
intellect.  It  is  not  so  with  the  relations  existing  between 
one's  own  intellect  and  the  intellect  of  others ;  the  expression 
of  a  thought  gives  rise  to  a  strict  duty  :  not  to  lie ;  which  is 
the  immediate  consequence  of  the  duty  of  the  intellect  toward 
itself,  and  which  consequently  shoidd,  by  way  of  corollary,  also 
belong  to  the  present  chapter. 

The  first  question  which  presents  itself  to  us  is  to  know 
whether  we  should  admit,  with  Aristotle,  intellectual  virtues, 
properly  so  called,  distinct  from  the  moral  virtues,  the  first 
having  regard  to  the  intellect,  the  second  to  the  passions.  It 
would  seem  that  the  various  faculties  pointed  out  by  Aristotle 
imder  the  name  of  intellectual  virtues,  are  rather  qualities  of 
the  mind  tlian  virtues :  art,  science,  prudence,  wisdom,  intel- 
ligence* (not  to  mention  the  difficulty  of  determming  the  va- 
rious shades  of  meaning  of  these  terms),  are  natural  or  ac- 
quired aptitudes,  but  which  do  not  appear  to  have  any  moral 
merit :  a  scholar,  an  artist,  a  clever  man,  a  man  of  good  sense 
and  good  counsel  are  naturally  distinguished  from  virtuous 
men.  It  wordd  seem  then  that  the  intellectual  virtues  are 
opposed  to  the  moral  virtues,  as  the  mind  is  to  the  heart : 
now,  for  every  one,  it  is  the  heart  rather  than  the  mind  that 
is  the  seat  of  virtue. 

These  difficulties  are  only  apparent,  and  Aristotle  himself 
gives  us  the  means  of  solving  them : 

"  In  order  to  be  truly  virtuous,"  he  says,  "  one  should  alwaj'S  act  in 
a  certain  moral  spirit :  I  mean  that  the  choice  of  an  action  should  be  a 
free  one,  determined  only  by  the  nature  of  the  acts  one  accomplishes. 
Now  it  is  virtue  that  renders  this  choice  laudable  and  good."t 

It  is  not  the  natural  faculties  of  the  mind  then,  no  more 
than  those;  of  the  heart  and   body,  that  deserve   the  name  of 

*  Nicomachcan  KUiics,  VI.,  ii.  t  Ibid.,  VI.,  xii. 


DUTIES    RELATING   TO   THE   INTELLECT.  263 

virtues.  It  is  those  same  faculties,  developed  and  cultivated 
by  the  will :  on  this  condition  alonp  do  they  deserve  esteem 
and  respect.  The  intellect  is  in  itself  of  a  higher  order  than 
the  senses,  the  appetites,  the  passions  :  it  is  therefore  incum- 
hent  upon  us  to  give  it  the  largest  share  in  our  personal  de- 
velopment. "  It  is  to  that  we  are  allied,"  says  Pascal,  "  not  to 
space  and  time.  Let  our  efforts  then  tend  to  think  rightly ;  this 
is  the  principle  of  morality."  The  intellect  presents  two  partic- 
idar  forms :  it  is  either  contemplative  or  active,  theoretical  or 
practical.  The  virtue  of  the  contemplative  intellect  is  knoicl- 
edge  ;  that  of  the  practical  intellect  prudence.  Finally  a  third 
virtue  might  be  admitted  :  judgment  or  common  sense,  which 
is  a  critical*  not  a  practical  faculty,  and  which  partakes  at  the 
same  time  of  both  sides  of  the  understanding. 

These  subtle  distinctions  of  Aristotle  have  not  lost  their 
correctness  and  appHcation  with  time.  One  can,  in  fact,  em- 
ploy his  mind  in  three  ways :  either  contemplate  absolute 
truth  by  the  means  of  science ; — or  judge  of  events  and  men 
and  foresee  future  things  without  contributing  toward  their  oc- 
currence ; — or  again  deliberate  as  to  what  is  to  be  done  or  not 
to  be  done  to  bring  about  actions  usefid  to  one's  self  and  to 
others.  Hence  three  kinds  of  men :  the  icise,  the  intelligent, 
the  prudent. 

Knowledge. — Taking  up  again,  one  after  the  other,  these 
three  qualities,  we  ought  to  ask  ourselves  whether  knowledge 
is  a  duty  for  man;  if  he  is  held  to  develop  his  mind  in  a  theo- 
retical manner  and  without  any  practical  end.  But  before 
we  examine  Avhether  it  is  a  duty,  let  us  first  find  out  whether 
it  is  lawful. 

The  scientific  and  speculative  culture  of  the  mind  on  the 
part  of  man,  has  often  been  regarded  as  a  proud  or  conceited 
refinement. 

This  opinion  was  expressed  by  some  writers  of  the  seven- 
teenth century — for  instance,  by  Nicole,  in  the  preface  to  the 
Logique  de  Port  Royal  : 

♦  Nicomachean  Ethics.  VI.,  ii. 


264  ELEMENTS   OF   MOEALS. 

"  These  sciences,"'  he  says,  "have  not  only  back-corners  and  secret 
recesses  of  very  little  use,  but  they  are  all  useless  when  viewed  in  them- 
selves and  for  themselves.  Men  were  not  bom  to  spend  their  time 
measuring  lines,  examining  the  relations  of  angles,  studying  the  divers 
movements  of  matter :  their  mind  is  too  vast,  their  life  too  short,  their 
time  too  precious,  to  occupy  themselves  with  such  small  matters." 

Malebranche  expresses  himself  in  about  the  same  terms : 

"Men  were  not  born  to  become  astronomers  or  chemists,  to  spend 
their  whole  life  hanging  on  a  telescope  or  fastened  to  a  furnace,  for  no 
better  purpose  than  to  draw  afterwards  from  their  laborious  observations 
useless  consequences.  Granting  some  astronomer  was  the  first  in  discov- 
ering lands,  seas,  and  mountains  in  the  moon  ;  that  he  was  the  first  to 
perceive  spots  moving  upon  the  sun,  and  that  he  has  calculated  their 
movements  exactly.  Granting  some  chemists  to  have  finally  discovered 
the  secret  of  fixing  mercury  or  to  make  that  alkahest  by  means  of 
which  Van  Helmout  boasted  he  could  dissolve  all  matter :  were  they 
the  wiser  and  happier  for  it  ?  " 

In  expressing  themselves  so  disdainfully  concerning  the 
sciences,  Nicole  and  Malebranche  meant,  in  fact,  only  that  one 
sliould  not  prefer  speculative  knowledge  to  the  science  of  man 
or  to  the  science  of  God  ;  and  it  is  most  true  that  if  we  view 
the  sciences  from  a  standpoint  of  dignity,  we  must  admit  that 
the  moral  sciences  have  greater  excellence  than  the  physical 
sciences.  But  that  which  is  equally  true  is,  that  we  must  not 
measure  the  merit  of  the  sciences  by  their  material  or  even 
moral  or  logical  utdity.  Science  is  in  itself,  and  without 
regard  to  any  otiicr  end  but  itself,  worthy  to  be  loved  and 
studied.  Intelligence,  in  fact,  was  given  to  man  that  he 
might  know  the  truth  of  things ;  investigation  is  its  natural 
food.  Man,  in  raising  himself  to  science,  increases  thereby 
the  excellence  of  his  nature ;  he  becomes  a  creature  of  a 
higher  order ;  for  in  the  order  of  divine  creatures,  the  most 
perfect  are  at  the  same  time  those  who  know  the  most,  and 
the  highest  degree  of  happiness  promised  to  religious  faith,  is 
to  know  truth  face  to  face.  It  is  therefore  no  frivolous  amuse- 
ment to  increase  here  below  the  sum  of  knoAvledge  we  are 
capable  of,  though  this  knowledge  be  only  that  of  the  things 


DUTIES   EELATING   TO   THE   INTELLECT.  2G5 

of  this  Avorld,  and  not  yet  the  higher  and  direct  knowledge  of 
God. 

Without  admitting  that  science  is  of  itself  a  legitimate 
object  of  research,  it  will  be  recognized  that  it  is  lawful  to 
study  it,  either  in  our  own  interest  or  for  the  love  of  others, 
or  for  the  love  of  God.  But  this  is  not  enough  :  to  see  in 
science  nothing  but  a  means  to  be  useful  to  ourselves  (as,  for 
example,  to  make  a  living),*  is  a  servile  and  mercenary  view, 
-which  does  not  Reserve  to  be  discussed.  To  maintain  that 
science  should  oidy  be  cultivated  because  of  its  utility  to 
others,  is  the  same  as  to  say  that  man  has  no  duties  toward 
liimself,  and  that  he  is  not  obliged,  letting  alone  the  interest 
of  others,  to  respect  or  perfect  his  own  self  :  a  thing  we  have 
already  refuted.  Finally,  to  say  that  science  should  be  cul- 
tivated as  a  gift  from  God,  and  for  the  love  of  God,  may  be 
true ;  but  this  is  not  any  more  applicable  to  that  occupation 
than  to  any  other ;  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  any  other 
kind  of  duty  without  exception.  Certainly,  science  should 
not  make  one  proud;  but  pride  is  only  an  adventitious 
and  not  a  necessary  consequence,  which,  in  speaking  of  cul- 
tivating science,  should  not  be  confounded  with  the  fact  itself. 

Besides,  when  Malebranche  says  that  the  scientist  is  not 
any  happier  or  Aviser  for  his  science,  he  is  mistaken  :  for  the 
greatest  happiness  is  sometimes  derived  from  science  alone ; 
and  as  to  the  wisdom  of  it,  a  taste  for  elevated  thought  is 
already  a  guarantee  against  the  allurements  of  the  passions ; 
finally,  whilst  we  cultivate  science,  we  are  safe  from  other  less 
innocent  inclinations. 

To  the  opinions  of  Nicole  and  ^lalcbranche,  let  us  oppose 
the  testimony  of  two  men  who  possessed  in  the  highest  degree 
the  respect  and  love  of  science  : 

"  It  is  unworthy  of  man,"  saj's  Aristotle,  "  not  to  possess  himself  of 
all  the  science  lie  can.  If  the  poets  are  right,  when  they  say  tliat  tiie 
Divinity  is  capable  of  jealousy,  this  jealousy  would  especially  manifest 

*  We  do  not  mean  by  this  that  science  cannot  be  a  means  of  livelihood  :  nothing 
more  legitimate,  on  the  contrary.    We  only  mean  that  it  is  not  that  alone. 


266  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS, 

itself  in  regard  to  philosophy,  aud  then,  all  those  who  indulged  in 
elevated  thought  would  he  unhappy.  But  it  is  not  possible  for  the 
Divinity  to  be  jealous,  and  the  poets,  as  the  proverb  says,  do  not  always 

tell  the  truth. 

Let  us  now  hear  Descartes  : 

"Although  in  judging  myself  I  find  that  I  am  more  disposed  to 
incline  toward  the  side  of  distrust  than  presumption,  and  that  regarding 
with  a  philosopher's  eye  the  diverse  a-ctions  and  enterprises  of  men,  there 
be  scarcely  any  that  do  not  seem  to  me  vain  and  unless,  yet  does  the 
progress  which  I  think  I  have  already  made  in  the  search  for  truth 
give  me  extreme  satLsfaction,  and  inspire  me  with  such  hopes  for  the  future 
that  if,  among  the  more  material  occupations  of  men,  there  are  any  sub- 
stantially goo<^l  and  important,  I  dare  believe  that  it  is  the  one  I  have 
chosen. "  * 

If,  from  a  standpoint  of  somewhat  mystical  piety,  some 
minds  of  the  seventeenth  century  regarded  the  sciences  as 
useless,  a  paradoxical  stoicism  accused  them  in  the  eighteenth 
to  be  a  cause  of  corruption  and  decay  in  society.  Such  is 
J.  J.  Rousseau's  celebrated  thesis  in  his  first  speech  at  the 
Academy  of  Dijon. 

Tliis  celebrated  paradox,  which  has  created  so  much  ex- 
citement in  the  past  century,  and  which  is  even  an  historical 
event  (for  it  was  the  first  attack  against  the  societj''  of  the 
time),  has  since  been  so  decried  that  it  is  useless  to  dwell  on 
it.  Let  us  make  a  brief  resume  of  J.  J.  Rousseau's  argu- 
ments: 

L  Progress  in  letters  and  sciences  serves  for  nothing  else 
but  to  conceal  the  vices  and  put  hypocrisy  in  the  place  of  an 
ill-bred  rusticity. 

2.  AU  great  nations  ceased  to  be  invincible  as  soon  as  the 
sciences  penetrated  among  them.  Egypt,  after  the  conquest 
of  Cambyses ;  Greece,  after  Pericles  ;  Rome,  after  Augustus. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  we  look  for  examples  of  healthy,  honest,, 
vigorous  nations,  we  find  them  among  the  ancient  Persians, 
Scythians,  Spartans,  the  first  Romans,  the  Swiss. 

*  See  also  the  admirable  pa.ssage  of  Augustin  Thierry  in  the  preface  to  Diz  ans 
d'ettide. 


DUTIES    RELATING   TO   THE   INTELLECT.  2G7 

3.  The  sciences  and  arts  are  born  of  and  nourish  idleness. 
Their  least  mischief  isuselessness.* 

4.  The  letters  and  arts  engender  luxury,  and  luxury  is 
one  of  the  powerful  instruments  of  corruption  in  morals :  it 
destroys  courage,  lowers  the  character,  and,  by  another  con- 
sequence, depraves  and  corrupts  the  taste  even. 

5.  Another  consequence  :  the  culture  of  the  mind  en- 
genders sophisms,  false  systems,  and  dangerous  doubts  about 
religion  and  morality. 

These  various  arguments,  taking  them  up  one  after  the 
other,  may  be  answered  as  follows : 

1.  It  is  nowise  proved  that  in  the  age  of  ignorance  vices 
■were  less  numerous  and  less  deeply  rooted  than  in  the  more 
enlightened  age.  Decency  is  a  good  in  itself,  and  is  not 
always  hypocrisy.  Delicacy  of  mind  robs  at  least  vice  of  its 
grossest  features  ;  it  diminishes  and  allays  violence,  whicli 
is  a  great  source  of  crimes. 

2.  It  is  not  true  that  military  virtues  (which,  besides, 
are  not  the  only  admirable  virtues)  are  destroyed  by  the 
culture  of  the  mind :  modern  examples  prove  this  suffi- 
ciently. 

3.  To  say  that  the  letters  and  sciences  are  born  of  and 
nourish  idleness  is  an  abuse  of  Avords.  "Wherein  is  the  man 
who  works  mentally  more  idle  than  he  who  works  with  his 
hands  1 

4.  The  sciences  and  letters  do  not  develop  a  taste  for 
luxury :  luxury  would  develop  without  them,  and  would  be 
ail  the  more  frivolous  and  corrupting :  they  are  concomitant, 
but  not  mutually  related  facts.     Luxury,  besides,  is  not  abso- 

*  "  Answer  me,  ye  illustrious  philosophers,  ye  through  whom  we  know  what  are 
the  causes  which  attract  bo<Jies  to  a  vacuum  ;  what  are  in  the  revolutions  of  the 
planets,  the  relations  of  the  spaces  they  travel  over  at  equal  periods  .... 
how  man  sees  everything  in  God ;  how  the  soul  and  the  body  correspond  to  each 
other  without  intcr-conimunication,  like  two  clocks  ....  Even  though  you 
had  not  taught  us  any  of  these  things,  should  we  be  less  numerous,  less  flourish- 
ing, more  depraved?"  This  passage  recalls  vividly  that  of  Malebranche  quoted 
above.  What,  however,  is  most  curious  about  it  is  that  Rousseau  in  his  criticism 
appropriates  Malebranche's  hi'pothesis. 


268  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

lutely  bad  in  itself  :  the  taste  for  elegajice  is  a  legitimate  one. 
Is  not  nature  herself  adorned  1 

5.  Science  develops  wrong  opinions,  false  systems  :  so  be 
it ;  but  it  also  corrects  them,  and  we  should  look  at  both 
sides  of  a  thing  and  see  its  good  parts  as  well  as  its  bad. 
Otherwise  it  would  be  easy  to  prove  that  everything  is  wrong. 

Eousseau's  paradox,  however,  is  not  altogether  false,  and 
there  are,  unquestionably,  many  evils  mixed  up  with  the  cul- 
ture of  the  mind,  but  these  evils  do  not  come  from  the  mind's 
being  cultivated,  but  from  its  being  badly  cultivated  ;  they  do 
not  come  from  people's  seeking  the  true  and  the  beautifid, 
but,  on  the  contrary,  from  their  not  seeking  them  enough. 
The  vanity  derived  from  false  science  should  not  be  im- 
puted to  true  science,  but  to  ignorance.  The  moral  enfeeble- 
ment,  which  is  the  residt  of  an  over-refined  culture  of  the 
mind,  comes  from  our  not  suflficiently  cultivating  the  mind  in 
every  direction  ;  for  example,  from  our  neglecting  the  moral 
sciences  for  the  industrial  sciences,  or  the  nobler  arts  for  the 
voluptuous  arts.  The  remedy  for  the  evils  pointed  out  by 
Rousseau  is,  therefore,  not  ignorance,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a 
greater  abundance  of  light,  and  higher  lights. 

It  is  then  for  each  of  us  a  duty  to  instruct  himself,  but  it 
is  evident  that  this  duty  must  be  regarded  as  a  broad  duty — 
that  is  to  say,  that  its  application  cannot  be  determined  by 
precise  formidas.  No  man  is  obliged  by  the  moral  law  to  be 
what  is  called  a  scholar ;  no  one  is  obliged  to  learn  astronomy 
or  transcendental  mathematics,  still  less  metaphysics.  But  it 
can  be  said  that  it  is  a  duty  for  each  of  us  :  1.  To  learn  as  well 
as  possible  the  principles  of  the  art  he  will  have  to  cultivate : 
for  instance,  the  magistrate  the  principles  of  jurisprudence ; 
the  physician  the  principles  of  medicine  ;  the  artisan  the 
principles  of  mechanics.  In  this  respect  young  students,  we 
must  confess,  have  far  too  easy  a  conscience.  They  do  not 
realize  the  responsibility  they  incur  by  their  negligence  and 
laziness,  2.  It  is  a  duty  for  all  men,  according  to  the 
means  they  can  dispose  of,  to  instruct  themselves  concerning 


DUTIES   RELATING   TO   TUE   INTELLECT.  2G9 

their  duties.  3.  It  is  also  a  duty  for  each  to  go,  as  far  as  he 
can,  beyond  the  strictly  necessary  in  matters  of  education, 
and  in  proportion  to  the  means  he  has  at  his  disposal.  It  is 
then  a  duty  to  neglect  no  occasion  of  improving  one's  self. 

149.  Good  sense. — Between  science  and  prudence,  be- 
tween t.'teuretical  intelligence  and  ^jractical  intelligence,  Aris- 
totle places  the  critical  faculty — in  other  terms,  jiidgment, 
good  sense,  discernment.  Tiiis  faculty  is  distinguished  from 
science  in  that  it  is  only  applied  to  things  where  doubt  and 
deliberation  come  in ;  it  treats  then  of  the  same  objects  as 
prudence ;  but  it  is  distinguished  from  the  latter  in  that 
prudence  is  practical  and  prescribes  what  should  be  done  or 
not  be  done  ;  good  sense,  on  the  contrary,  is  purely  critical : 
it  is  limited  to  mere  judging.  It  is,  then,  in  some  respects 
disinterested  and  does  not  induce  to  action ;  it  is  the  art  of 
appreciating  things,  men,  and  events.  Good  judgment  may 
be  found  among  men  lacking  practical  prudence  :  one  sees 
often  very  weU  the  faidts  of  others  Avithout  seeing  one's  own  ; 
or,  again,  one  may  be  aware  of  one's  own  faults  and  not  be 
able  to  correct  them.  However,  it  is  not  to  be  denied  that 
good  sense  or  good  judgment  is  a  useful  aiixiliary  to  prudence  ; 
it  is  already  in  itself  an  estimable  quality,  and  is  far  from 
being  as  well  distributed  among  men  as  Descartes  claims.* 
On  the  contrary,  according  to  Nicole  : 

"  Common  sense  is  not  so  common  a  quality  as  one  thinks.  .  .  . 
Nothing  is  more  rare  than  this  exactness  of  judgment.  Everywhere  we 
meet  false  minds  who  have  scarcely  any  discernment  of  what  is  true  ; 
who  take  everything  the  Avrong  way  ;  who  accept  the  worst  kind  of 
reasonings,  and  wish  to  make  others  accept  them  also  ;  who  allow  them- 
selves to  be  carried  away  by  the  least  appearances  of  things  ;  who  are 
always  excessive  in  their  views  and  run  into  extremes  ;  minds  who 
either  have  no  grasp  to  hold  on  to  the  truths  they  have  acquired,  be- 
cause they  have  become  attached  to  them  through  chance  rather  than 
solid  knowledge  ;  or  who,  on  the  contrary,  persist  in  their  ideas  with 
such  stubbornness  that  they  listen  to  nothing  that  could  undeceive  them; 
who  judge  boldly  of  things  neither  they  nor  any  one  else,  perhaps, 

*  "Good  sense  is  the  best  (iistributed  thing  in  the  world,"  says  Descartes  at  the 
beginning  of  his  Dixours  dc  la  Mithode. 


370  ELEMENTS    OF    MOEALS. 

ever  understood  ;  who  make  no  difference  between  talking  to  the  purpose 
and  talking  nonsense,  and  are  guided  in  their  judgment  by  mere  trifles. 
...  So  that  there  are  no  absurdities,  however  incredible,  that  do  not 
find  approving  adherents.  Whoever  intends  duping  people  is  sure  to 
find  people  glad  to  be  duped,  and  the  most  ridiculous  nonsense  is  sure 
to  find  minds  suited  for  it. " 

Here,  the  rules  of  morality  are  confounded  witli  those  of 
logic.  It  is  the  latter  that  teaches  us  how  to  avoid  error,  if  not 
in  science  (which  is  the  object  of  speculative  logic),  at  least  in 
life.  The  development  of  these  rules  will  be  found  in  the 
Recherche  cle  la  verite  of  Malebranche.  The  Logique  de  Port 
Royal  will  furnish  us  a  resume  of  them  which  Avill  suffice 
here  : 

150.  Illusions  coming  from  ourselves. — 1.  A  first  cause 
of  illusion  in  the  judgments  we  pass  upon  things,  is  to  take 
our  interest  for  a  motive  of  belief  :  "I  am  of  such  or  such  a 
country,  ergo,  I  must  believe  that  such  or  such  a  saint  has 
preached  the  Gospel  there  ;  I  belong  to  such  or  such  a  class, 
ergo,  I  believe  that  such  or  such  a  privilege  is  a  just  one." 

2.  Our  aifections  are  another  cause  of  illusion :  "  I  love 
him,  ergo,  he  is  the  cleverest  man  in  the  world ;  I  hate  him, 
ergo,  he  is  nobody."  This  is  what  may  be  called  the  sophistry 
of  the  heart. 

3.  Illusions  of  self-love.  There  are  some  who  decide  about 
everything  by  the  general  and  very  convenient  principle,  that 
they  must  be  in  the  right.  They  listen  but  little  to  the 
reasons  of  others  ;  they  wish  to  carry  everything  before  them 
by  main  authority,  and  treat  all  those  who  are  not  of  their 
opinion  as  indiff"erent  thinkers.  Some  even,  without  suspect- 
ing it,  go  so  far  as  to  say  to  themselves :  "  If  it  were  so,  I 
should  not  be  the  clever  man  I  am  :  or,  I  am  a  clever  man ; 
ergo,  it  is  not  so." 

4.  Reciprocal  reproaclies  which  peoj)le  may  make  to  each 
other  with  the  same  right :  for  example,  you  are  a  caviler, 
you  are  selfish,  blind,  dislionest,  etc.  Wlience  this  equitable 
and  judicious  rule  of  Saint  Augustine  :  "  Let  us  avoid  in  dis- 


DUTIES   EELATING   TO   THE   INTELLECT.  271 

cussions  mutual  reproaching;  reproaches  which,  though  they 
may  not  be  true  at  that  moment,  may  justly  be  made  by  both 
parties." 

5.  A  spirit  of  contradiction  and  dispute,  so  admirably  de- 
picted by  Montaigne : 

"  We  onl}"  learn  to  dispute  that  we  may  contradict,  and  everyone 
contradicting  and  being  contradicted,  it  falls  out  that  the  fruit  of  dispu- 
tation is  to  lose  and  nullify  the  truth.  .  .  One  flies  to  the  east,  the  other 
to  the  west  ;  they  lose  the  principal,  and  wander  in  the  crowd  of  inci- 
dents ;  after  an  hour  of  tempest,  they  know  not  what  they  seek  ;  one 
is  low,  the  other  high,  and  a  third  wide  ;  one  catches  at  a  word  and  a 
simile  ;  another  is  no  longer  sensible  of  what  is  said  in  opposition  to 
him,  being  entirely  absorbed  in  his  own  notions,  engaged  in  following 
his  own  course,  and  not  thinking  of  answering  you  ;  another,  finding 
himself  weak,  fears  all,  refuses  all,  and,  at  the  very  beginning,  confounds 
the  subjects,  or,  in  the  very  height  of  the  dispute,  stop.s  short,  and  grows 
silent ;  by  a  peevish  ignoranqe  affecting  a  proud  contempt,  or  an  un- 
seasonable modest  desire  to  shun  debate.   ..." 

6.  The  contrary  defect,  namely,  a  sycophantic  amiability, 
which  approves  of  everything  and  admires  everything :  ex- 
ample, the  Philinte  of  Moliere. 

Besides  these  different  illusions  wliich  are  due  to  ourselves 
and  our  own  weaknesses,  there  are  others  engendered  from 
without,  or  at  least  from  the  divers  aspects  under  which  things 
present  themselves  to  us  : 

151.  Illusions  arising  from  objects. — 1.  The  mixture  of 

the  true  and  the  false,  of  good  and  evil  which  we  see  in 
tilings,  causes  us  often  to  confound  them.  Thus  do  the  good 
qualities  of  the  persons  we  esteem  cause  us  to  approve  their 
defects,  and  vice  versa.  Now,  it  is  precisely  in  this  judicious 
separation  of  good  from  evil  that  a  correct  mind  shows  itself. 

2.  Illusions  arising  from  eloquence  and  flowery  rhetoric. 

3.  Ill-natured  interpretations  of  people's  peculiar  views 
founded  on  mere  appearances  or  hearsay ;  as,  for  example  : 
such  a  one  goes  Avith  doubtful  characters,  ergo,  he  is  a  bad 
character  himself;  such  another  associates  Avith  free-thinkers, 
frgo,  he  is  a  free-thinker  likewise ;  a  third  criticises  the  gov- 


272  ELEMENTS  OF   MORALS. 

ernment,  ergo,  he  is  a  rebel ;  he  approves  its  acts,  ergo,  he  is  a 
courtier,  etc.,  etc. 

4.  False  deductions  drawn  from  a  few  accidental  occurrences; 
as  for  instance  :  medicine  does  not  cure  all  diseases,  hence  it 
cures  none ;  there  are  frivolous  women,  hence  all  women  are 
frivolous  ;  there  are  hypocrites,  hence  piety  is  nothing  but  hy- 
pocrisy. 

5.  Error  of  judging  of  bad  or  good  advice  from  subsequent 
events.  As  for  example:  Such  or  such  an  event  followed 
upon  such  and  such  advice,  hence  it  was  good — it  was  bad. 

6.  Sophistry  of  authority.  It  consists  in  accepting  men's 
opinions  on  the  strength  of  certain  qualities  they  may  possess, 
although  these  qualities  may  have  nothing  to  do  with  the 
matter  in  hand.  For  instance,  by  reason  of  their  age,  or  piety, 
or,  what  is  worse,  of  wealth  and  influence.  Certainly  we  do 
not  exactly  say  in  so  many  words :  such  a  one  has  a  hundred 
pounds  income,  and  must  therefore  be  right;  but  there  is 
nevertheless  something  similar  going  on  in  our  minds,  which 
runs  away  with  our  judgment  without  our  being  conscious 
of  it. 

In  pointing  out  these  various  dangers  upon  which  good 
judgment  and  upright  reasoning  are  often  wrecked,  we  indi- 
cate sufficiently  the  rules  which  ought  to  serve  in  the  educa- 
tion of  the  mind :  for  it  is  enough  to  be  warned  against  such 
errors,  and  be  endowed  with  a  certain  amount  of  correct  judg- 
ment, to  recognize  and  avoid  them. 

152.  Prudence. — From  the  faculty  of  judging  and  having 
an  opinion  about  things,  let  us  pass  on  to  the  third  quality  of  the 
mind,  namely  :  prudence,  Avhich  consists,  as  Aristotle  informs 
us,  in  deliberating  well  before  doing  anything,  and  which  is 
the  art  of  well  discerning  our  interest  in  the  things  concern- 
ing us,  and  the  interest  of  others  in  the  things  concerning 
them. 

There  are  then  two  sorts  of  prudence :  personal  prudence, 
which  is  nothing  more  than  self-interest  well  understood,  and 
civil  or  disinterested  prudence,  which  applies  to  the  interests 


DUTIES    RELATING   TO   THE   IXTELLECT.  273 

of  others ;  thus,  a  prudent  general,  a  prudent  notary,  a  pru- 
dent minister,  are  not  only  prudent  in  their  own  interests,  but 
for  that  of  others.     Prudence  from  this  point  of  view  is  then 
but  a  duty  toward  others.     As  to  personal  prudence,  it  may 
be  asked  how  far  it  is  a  question  of  morals,  and  whether  it  is 
not  excluded  from  them  by  the  very  principle  of  morals, 
which  is  duty.     But  we  have  already  solved  that  difficulty. 
Because  prudence  is  not  all  virtue,  it  does  not  follow  that  it  is 
not  a  virtue.     Certainly,  we  are  too  naturally  inclined  to  seek 
our  own  interest,  to  make  it  necessary  to  set  it  down   as 
a  duty.     But  in  case  of  struggle  between  self-interest  and 
passion,*  self-interest  takes  sometimes  the  character  of  duty. 
This  is  clear  enough.     Interest,  if  properly  understood,  repre- 
sents general  interest ;  and  passion,  private  interest.    To  yield 
to  passion,  is  to  satisfy  at  a  given  moment,  and  for  a  very 
short  time,  one  of  our  desires  only.     Prudence,  on  the  con- 
trary, pleads  the  cause   of  the  general  interest  of  the  entire 
man,  and  for  all  his  life.     Man  may  be  represented  (as  Plato 
has  represented  him)  figuratively  as  a  city,  a  republic,  a  world; 
it  has  been  said  that  he  is  a  microcosm  (little  world).     This 
little  world  represents  in  miniature  the  harmony  of  the  great 
world.     The  individual  to  whom  the  government  of  this  little 
world  is  intrusted,  and  who  stands  in  regard  to  himself  as 
Providence  stands  in  regard  to  the  universe,  should  not  favor 
a  part  of  it  at  the  expense  of  the  rest.    Prudence  is  then  the 
virtue  by  means  of  which  man  governs  the  affairs  of  the  little 
State  of  which  he  is  the  king.      Prudence,  moreover,  is  noth- 
ing more  than  foresight — that  is  to  say,  the  faculty  of  foresee- 
ing Avhat  is  coming,  of  drawing  from  the  past,  consequences 
for  the  future,  and  acting  conformably  to  the  lessons  of  expe- 
rience.     Xow,  it  is  especially  by  this   that   man  is  distin- 
guished from  the  animal :  it  is  by  this  that  he  is  capable  of 
progress.     He  owes  it  then  to  himself  to  act  according  to  the 
principles  of  reason,  and  not  according  to  brute  instincts. 

*  Unless,  of  course,  passion  itself  implii's  a  duty  superior  to  self-interest :  which 
is  not  the  case  here. 


274  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

Another  difficulty  of  greater  import,  is  tliat  prudence  does 
not  represent  a  special  virtue,  but  is  nothing  more  than  a 
common  name  given  to  several  particular  virtues.  Thus,  pru- 
dence being  detined  "  the  discernment  between  the  useful  and 
the  hurtful,"  it  may  be  said  that  discernment,  in  point  of  sen- 
sual pleasures,  will  be  called  moderation  or  temperance  ;  in 
point  of  riches,  economy ;  that  true  courage  holding  the  mean 
between  temerity  and  cowardice,  is  necessarily  accompanied 
by  prudence ;  we  have  seen  that  science  itself  must  learn  how 
to  keep  within  bounds,  and  this  also  is  a  sort  of  prudence. 
We  shall  find  therefore  that  prudence  has  not,  like  other  vir- 
tues, a  property  of  its  own.  It  is  in  reality  nothing  more  than 
a  mode  common  to  all  personal  virtues,  each  presenting  two 
standpoints  to  be  considered  from  :  1,  from  the  standpomt  of 
personal  dignity,  which  is  the  highest  principle ;  2,  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  proper  self-interest,  which,  subordinate  to  the 
first,  is  a  secondary  and  relative  standpoint. 

However,  applied  in  individual  cases,  we  will  give  here  a 
few  of  the  rules  concerning  prudence  in  general : 

1.  It  is  not  enough  to  attend  to  what  good  or  evil  the  pres- 
ent moment  may  present ;  we  should  also  examine  what  the 
natural  consequences  of  this  good  or  evil  will  be,  so  that,  com- 
paring the  present  with  the  future  and  balancing  the  one  with 
the  other,  we  may  see  the  result  beforehand. 

2.  It  is  unreasonable  to  seek  a  good  which  will  inevitably 
be  followed  by  a  greater  evil. 

3.  Nothing  is  more  reasonable  than  to  suffer  an  evil 
which  is  certain  to  be  followed  by  a  greater  good. 

4.  One  should  prefer  a  greater  good  to  a  lesser,  and  con- 
versely so  in  the  case  of  evils. 

5.  It  is  not  necessary  to  be  fully  certain  in  regard  to 
great  goods  or  evils,  and  probability  is  sufficient  to  induce  a 
reasonable  person  to  deprive  himself  of  some  lesser  goods,  or 
to  sufi'er  some  slight  evils,  in  view  of  acquiring  much  greater 
goods,  or  avoiding  worse  evils,* 

♦  Sec  Builainaqui,  Droit  nalurel,  part  I.,  ch.  vi. 


DUTIES    RELATING   TO   THE   INTELLECT.  275 

154.  Duties  relative  to  telling  the  truth. — Veracity 
and  falsehood. — It  is  in  the  nature  of  man  to  express  his 
thoughts  by  signs  of  various  kinds,  and  oftenest  by  words. 
What  is  the  law  which  is  to  regulate  the  relations  between 
words  and  thoughts  ?  Are  we  to  regard  words  as  arbitrary 
means  serving  indifferently  to  express  any  kind  of  thought, 
or  as  having  no  other  end  than  to  express  our  own  particular 
thought,  the  same,  namely,  which  comes  to  us  at  the  moment 
of  speaking  1  Common  sense  solves  this  question  by  esteem- 
ing in  the  highest  degree  those  who  use  speech  only  to  ex- 
press their  thought,  and  despising  those  who  use  it  to  deceive. 
This  sort  of  virtue  is  called  veracity,  and  its  opposite  is  false- 
hood. 

Falsehood  is  generally  regarded  among  men  as  only  a  viola- 
tion of  the  duty  toward  others.  It  is  not  from  this  stand- 
point we  are  going  to  consider  it  here.  Unquestionably,  one 
should  injure  no  one  in  any  way,  no  more  by  a  falsehood 
than  otherwise.  But  for  a  falsehood  to  be  harmless,  does  it 
foUow  that  it  is  not  bad  ?  The  scholastics  distinguished  two 
kinds  of  falsehoods  :  the  malicious  falsehood,  with  intent  to 
deceive,  and  the  verbal  falsehood,  which  consists  in  mere 
words,  and  does  not  spring  from  any  wish  to  do  harm  (as,  for 
example,  the  falsehood  of  the  physician  Avho  deceives  his 
patient).  But  such  distinctions  should  not  be  admitted. 
Falsehood  need  not  be  malicious  to  be  bad :  it  is  bad  of  itself, 
Avhatever  be  its  consequences.  There  remains  then  to  know 
what  is  to  be  done  in  cases  of  conflict  between  our  duties, 
and  whether  moral  law  does  not  in  certain  cases  relent  ?  Even 
though  it  did,  it  would  not  suffic(3  to  authorize  the  distinction 
between  two  kinds  of  falsehoods.  What  precisely  constitutes 
a  falsehood  is  to  be  verbal — that  is  to  say,  to  employ  speech  to 
express  the  contrary  of  truth.  Whether  malice  enters  into  it 
or  not,  this  is  an  accident  which  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
essence  of  falsehood ;  it  may  aggravate  or  attenuate  it,  cer- 
tainly, but  it  does  not  constitute  it. 

To  weU   understand  the  moral  evil  which  resides  in  false- 


276  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

hood  one  must  take  it  at  its  source — that  is  to  say,  distin- 
guish with  Kant  between  inner  and  outward  falsehood :  the 
first  whereby  one  Hes  to  himself,  namely,  in  lacking  in  sin- 
cerity in  regard  to  himself ;  the  second  whereby  one  lies  to 
others. 

The  human  mind  is  naturally  constituted  for  knowing  the 
truth  :  truth  is  its  object  and  its  end.  A  mind  that  has  not 
truth  for  its  object  is  no  mind.  Whosoever  uses  his  mind  to 
satisfy  his  inclinations  undoubtedly  debases  his  mind,  but  he 
does  not  pervert  it ;  but  he  who  uses  his  mind  to  make  him- 
self or  others  believe  the  contrary  to  the  truth,  perverts  and 
ruins  his  mind.  He  then  perverts  and  destroys  one  of  the 
most  excellent  gifts  of  his  nature,  and  fails  thereby  in  one  of 
the  strictest  and  most  clearly  defined  duties. 

It  may  be  asked  whether  it  is  possible  for  man  to  really  lie 
to  himself,  and  if  it  is  not  rather  a  contradiction  in  terms. 
One  can,  in  fact,  understand  how  a  man  may  be  mistaken, 
but  then  he  does  not  know  that  he  is  mistaken ;  it  is  an  error, 
but  no  lie ;  if,  on  the  contrary,  he  knows  that  he  is  mistaken', 
then  for  that  very  reason  is  he  no  longer  mistaken ;  so  that  it 
Avould  seem  that  there  can  be  no  lying  to  one's  self. 

And  yet  popular  psychology,  the  subtlest  of  all,  because  it  is 
formed  in  the  presence  of  real  facts,  and  under  the  true  teach- 
ings of  experience  (whilst  scientific  psychology  is  always  more 
or  less  artificial),  this  natural  psychology,  which  sums  up  the 
experience  of  the  whole  of  humanity,  has  always  affirmed  that 
man  could  voluntarily  deceive  himself,  consequently  lie  to 
himself.  The  most  ordinary  case  of  inward  falsehood  is 
when  man  employs  sophisms— that  is  to  say,  seeks  reasotis 
wherewith  to  smotlier  the  cry  of  his  conscience  ;  or  when  he 
tries  to  persuade  himself  that  he  has  no  other  motive  in  view 
than  moral  good,  wbilst,  in  fact,  he  onh'^  acts  from  fear  of 
punishment,  or  from  any  other  interested  motive. 

"  To  take,  througli  love  of  self,  an  intention  for  a  fact,  because  it  has 
for  its  object  a  good  end  in  itself,  is  again,"  says  Kant,  "a  defect  of 
another  kind.     It  is  a  weakness  similar  to  that  of  the  lover  who,  desirous 


DUTIES   RELATIXG   TO   THE   INTELLECT.  277 

to  see  nothing  but  good  qualities  iu  the  woman  he  loves,*  shuts  his 
eyes  to  the  most  obvious  defects." 

The  inward  lie  is  then  an  unpardonable  weakness,  if  not  a 
real  baseness,  and  we  must  conclude  from  this  that  it  is  the 
same  with  the  outward  lie — the  lie,  namely,  which  expresses 
itself  in  words. 

Here  it  may  be  objected  that  speech  is  not  an  integrant 
part  of  the  mind,  that  it  is  only  an  accident,  that  whatever 
use  we  may  make  of  speech  we  do  not  destroy  thereby  the 
principle  of  intelligence,  for  I  may  use  my  mind  to  discover 
and  possess  myself  of  truth,  even  though  I  should  not  make 
known -the  same  to  others,  or  make  them  believe  otherwise 
than  I  think.  From  tliis  standpoint  falsehood  would  still 
remain  a  sin  as  a  violation  of  the  duty  toward  others,  though 
not  as  a  shortcoming  in  regard  to  one's  self. 

But  this  would  be  a  very  false  analysis  of  the  psychological 
fact  called  communication  of  thought.  Speech  is  never 
wholly  independent  of  thought.  The  very  fact  that  I  speak, 
implies  that  I  think  my  speech :  there  is  an  inner  affirmation 
required.  I  cannot  make  sophisms  to  deceive  men  without 
having  first  inwardly  combined  these  sophisms  tiirough  the 
faculty  of  tliinking  which  is  in  me.  I  think  then  of  one 
thing  and  another  at  the  same  time ;  I  think  at  the  same  time 
of  both  the  true  and  the  false,  and  I  am  conscious  of  this  con- 
tradiction. I  employ  then  knowingly  my  mind  in  destroying 
itself,  and  I  fall,  consequently,  into  the  vice  pointed  out  above. 

Kant  gives  another  deduction  than  ours  to  prove  that  false- 
hood is  a  violation  of  duty  toward  one's  self.  But  his  deduc- 
tion is,  perhaps,  not  sufficiently  severe  : 

"  A  man  who  does  not  himself  believe  what  he  tells  another,  is  of  less 
worth  than  is  a  simple  thing ;  for  one  may  put  the  usefulness  of  a 
simple  thing  to  some  account,  whilst  the  liar  is  not  so  much  a  real  man 
as  a  deceiving  appearance  of  a  man.  .  .  .  Once  the  major  principle  of 
veracity  shaken,  dissimulation  soon  runs  into  all  our  relations  Avith 
others." 

*  See  the  celebrated  lines  in  the  Misanthrojie,  act  ii.,  so.  v. 


^'78  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS, 

This  deduction  is  very  ingenious ;  but  it  lacks  strictness, 
inasmuch  as  it  is  based  on  the  use  a  man  may  be  made  of, 
which  principle  is  contrary  to  the  general  principle  of  Kant's 
morals,  and  also  because  it  rests  on  the  standpoint  of  social 
interest,  which  lies  outside  the  point  in  question. 

155.  Discretion. — It  is  evident  that  the  duty  not  to  lie, 
does  not  carry  with  it,  as  its  consequence,  the  duty  of  telling 
all.  Silence  must  not  be  confounded  with  dissimulation,  and 
no  one  is  obliged  to  tell  all  he  has  in  his  mind  ;  far  from  it ; 
we  are  here  before  another  duty  toward  ourselves,  which 
stands  in  some  respect  in  opposition  to  the  preceding  one, 
namely,  discretion.  The  babbler  Avho  speaks  at  all  times  and 
under  all  circumstances,  and  he  who  tells  what  he  should  not, 
must  not  be  confounded  with  the  loyal  and  sincere  man,  Avho 
■only  tells  what  he  thinks,  but  does  not  necessarily  tell  all  he 
thinks. 

Silence  is  obviously  a  strict  duty  toward  others,  when  the 
matter  in  question  has  been  confided  to  us  under  the  seal  of 
secrecy.  But  it  may  also  be  said  that  it  is  a  duty  toward  our- 
selves, and  for  the  following  reasons  : 

1.  To  use  one's  mind,  as  does  the  babbler,  in  giving  utter- 
ance to  barren  and  frivolous  thoughts,  is  degrading :  not  all 
that  accidentally  crosses  one's  mind  is  worthy  of  being  ex- 
pressed ;  and  it  is  simply  heedlessness  to  fix  one's  mind  on 
fleeting  things,  and  give  them  a  certain  fixity  and  value 
through  words ;  2,  there  are,  on  the  other  hand,  other  thoughts, 
too  precious,  too  personal,  too  elevated,  to  be  indiscreetly  ex- 
posed to  the  curiosity  of  fools  or  indifferent  persons.  Thus 
will  it  be  heroic,  unquestionably,  to  confess  one's  faith  before 
the  executioner,  if  there  is  need ;  but  it  is  not  necessary  to 
proclaim  it  all  round  when  there  is  no  occasion  for  it :  I  be- 
lieve such  and  such  a  thing  ;  I  belong  to  such  or  such  a 
cliurch ;  I  hold  such  and  such  a  doctrine ;  I  belong  to  such  or 
such  a  party,  unless,  of  course,  there  is  an  interest  in  spread- 
ing one's  belief ;  and  even  then  it  will  be  necessary  to  choose 
the  right  place  and  the  right  moment.    As  ^ii  using  discretion 


DUTIES    RELATIXG    TO   THE   INTELLECT.  279 

in  regard  to  our  sentiments,  our  moral  qualities,  or  our  defects, 
it  is  in  one  instance  a  duty  of  modesty  and  in  another  one  of 
personal  dignity. 

156.  Perjury. — If  falsehood  is  in  general  an  abasement  of 
human  dignity,  it  is  a  still  greater  abasement  when  it  is  of  the 
kind  called  2)erjury,  and  a  transgression  -which  might  be  de- 
fined as  a  double  falsehood. 

Perjury  is  of  two  sorts :  it  either  means  swearing  falsely  or 
violating  a  former  oath.  In  order  to  understand  the  meaning 
of  perjury,  one  must  know  what  constitutes  an  oath. 

The  oath  is  an  affirmation  where  God  is  taken  as  a  witness 
of  the  truth  one  is  supposed  to  utter.  The  oath  consists, 
then,  in  some  respect,  in  invoking  God  in  our  favor,  in  mak- 
ing him  speak  in  our  name.  We,  so  to  say,  attest  that  God 
himself,  who  reads  the  heart,  would,  if  he  were  called  in 
testimony,  speak  as  we  speak  ourselves.  The  oath  indicates 
that  one  accepts  in  advance  the  chastisements  God  does  not 
fail  to  inflict  upon  those  who  mvoke  his  name  in  vain. 

ItwiU  be  seen  by  this  how  perjury,  namely,  false  swearing, 
may  be  called  a  double  lie.  For  perjury  is  a  lie,  first  in 
affirming  a  thing  that  is  false,  and  second,  in  affirming  that 
God  would  bear  testimony  if  he  were  present.  Let  us 
add  that  there  is  here  a  sort  of  sacrilege  Avhich  consists 
in  our  making  God,  in  some  respects,  the  accomplice  of  onr 
lie. 

It  is  true  tliat  men,  in  taking  an  oath,  forget  often  its  sacred 
and  rehgious  character,  and,  consequently,  there  is  not  always  a 
sacrilegious  intention  in  their  false  swearing.  But  it  may 
still  be  said  that  perjury  is  a  double  lie ;  for  in  every  oath 
taken,  even  though  stripped  of  all  religious  character,  there  is 
always  a  double  attestation  :  first  we  affirm  a  thing,  and  next 
we  affirm  that  our  affirmation  is  true.  It  is  thus  that  in  that 
form  of  speech  long  since  worn  out,  which  is  called  ivord  of 
honor ^  we  give  our  word  and  engage  our  honor  to  attest  that 
such  or  such  affirmation  is  true.  To  lircak  this  word  is,  then, 
to  lie  twice,  for  it  is  affirming  a  false  affirmation.     It  is  for 


280  ELEMENTS  OF  MORALS. 

this  reason  that  falsehood,  which  is  always  culpable,  must,  in 
this  case,  be  regarded  as  particularly  dishonorable. 

As  to  perjury,  considered  as  a  violation  of  a  former  oath,  it 
belongs  to  the  class  of  promise  or  word-breaking,  which  is 
especially  contrary  to  the  duty  toward  others.  Yet,  even  in 
this  kind  of  falsehood,  there  is  also  a  violation  of  personal 
duty ;  for  he  who  breaks  a  promise  (with  or  without  oath) 
would  seem  to  indicate  by  it  that  he  did  not  intend  keeping 
his  promise,  which  is  destructive  to  the  very  idea  of  a  promise; 
it  is  then,  once  more,  using  speech,  not  as  a  necessary  symbol 
of  thought,  but  simply  as  a  means  of  obtaining  what  Ave  want, 
reserving  to  ourselves  the  liberty  to  change  our  minds  when 
the  moment  comes  for  fulfilling  our  promise.  This  is  abasing 
our  intelligence,  and  making  it  serve  as  a  means  to  satisfy  our 
wants,  whilst  it  belongs  to  an  order  far  superior  to  these  very 
wants. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

DUTIES    RELATIVE   TO   THE   WILL. 


SUMMARY. 

Duties  relative  to  the  will.— Strength  of  soul.— All  duty  in  genoral 

is  relative  to  the  will :  for  there  is  not  any  which  does  not  require 
the  control  of  the  will  over  the  inclinations. 

Virtue,  especially  when  considered  from  the  latter  standpoint, — the 
control  of  the  will  over  the  inclinations, — is  strength  of  soul,  or 
courage. 

Of  courage  and  its  different  forms  :  military  courage  ;  civic  courage  ; 
pcUience,  moderation  in  prosperity  ;  equanimity,  etc. 

Of  anger  and  its  different  kinds. — Generous  anger. 

Duty  oi personal  dignity. — Respect  for  one's  self.     True  pride  and 
false  pride. — Of  a  jMsi  esteem  of  one's  self.  —  Of  modesty. 
Duties  relative  to  sentiment. — Have  we  any  duties  in  regard  to  our 
sensibilities? — Kant's  objection  :  no  one  can  love  at  will.     Reply. — 
To  distinguish  sensibility  from  sentimentality. 

157.  Duties  relative  to  the  will.— Strength  of  soul. — One 

may  justly  ask  whether  there  are  any  duties  relating  particu- 
larly to  the  will :  for  it  would  seem  that  all  duties  are  gener- 
ally duties  of  the  will.  There  is  no  one  that  does  not  require 
the  control  of  the  will  over  the  inclinations  ;  and  if  we  say 
that  it  is  a  duty  to  cultivate  and  exerci.sc  this  control,  is  it  not 
as  if  we  said  that  it  is  a  duty  to  learn  to  do  our  duty  1  But 
why  could  we  not  also  suppose  a  third  duty,  conimantling  us 
to  observe  the  former,  and  so  ad  mfinituni  ? 

We  may  then  say  that  the  duty  to  exercise  one's  will  and 
triumph  over  the  passions,  is  nothing  more  than  duty  prr 
se,  the  duty  par  excellence,   of   wliich  all  the   other   duties 


282  ELEMEl!fTS    OF   MORALS. 

are  but  parts.  This  virtue,  by  which  the  soul  commands 
its  passions  and  does  not  allow  itself  to  be  subjugated  by 
any  of  them,  may  be  called  courage  or  strength  of  soul. 
Courage  thus  understood  is  not  only  a  virtue  ;  it  is  vir- 
tue itself.*  In  fact,  what  is  temperance,  if  it  is  not  a  cer- 
tain kind  of  courage  before  the  pleasures  of  the  senses  ?  what 
economy,  if  not  courage  before  the  temptations  of  fortune  ? 
Avhat  veracity,  if  not  the  courage  to  tell  the  truth  under  all 
circumstances  ?  what  justice  and  benevolence,  if  not  the  cour- 
age to  sacrifice  self-interest  to  the  interest  of  others  ?  AVc 
have  already  (page  87)  made  a  similar  observation  in  regard 
to  prudence  and  wisdom,  namely,  that  virtue  in  general  is 
both  wisdom  and  courage  :  for  it  presupposes  at  the  same  time 
strength  and  light.  As  strength,  it  is  courage,  energy,  great- 
ness of  soul ;  as  light,  it  is  prudence  and  wisdom.  All  special 
virtues    would,    then,   strictly  speaking,   be   only  factors,   or 

^  component  parts,  of  those  two. 

'N/^IBS.  Courage. — Yet  if  courage,  in  its  most  general  sense, 
is  virtue  itself,  usage  has  given  it  a  special  meaning  which 
defines  it  in  a  more  particular  manner,  and  makes  of  it  a  cer- 
tain distinct  virtue,  on  the  same  conditions  as  all  the  others. 
As  of  all  the  assaults  which  besiege  us  in  life,  death  appears 
to  be  the  most  terrible  and  generally  the  most  dreaded,  it  is 
not  to  be.  wondered  then  that  this  kind  of  energy  which  con- 
sists in  braving  death  and,  consequently,  all  that  may  lead  to 
it,  namely,  peril,  has  been  designated  by  a  particular  name. 
Courage,  therefore,  is  the  sort  of  virtue  which  braves  peril  and 
even  death.  Then,  by  extension,  the  same  word  was  applied 
to  every  manifestation  of  strength  of  soul  before  misfortune, 
misery,  grief.  A  man  can  be  brave  in  poverty,  in  slavery, 
under  humiliation  even — that  is,  a  humiliation  which  is  due  to 
outward  circumstances,  and  which  he  has  not  deserved. 

This  courageous  virtue  seems  to  have  been  the  particular 
feature  of  the  ancients,  and  by  dint  of  its  excellence,  still  re- 
tains its  hold  on  us,  dazzling  our  imagination,  as  a  privileged 

*  yirlus  in  Latin  has  both  meanin'rs. 


DUTIES   RELATIVE  TO   THE   WILL.  283 

prestige.  Yet  is  it  only  an  illusion,  and  modern  times  are  as 
rich  in  heroes  as  were  ancient  times  :  only  we  pay  less  atten- 
tion to  it  perhaps  ;  but,  whether  it  be  real  superiority  in  this 
kind  of  virtue,  or  literary  reminiscences  and  habits  of  educa- 
tion, nothing  will  ever  erase  that  lively  picture  of  ancient 
heroism  so  celebrated  under  the  name  of  Plutarch's  heroes, 
and  whicli  has  always  captivated  all  great  imaginations. 
Stoicism,  that  original  philosophy  of  the  Greek  and  Roman 
world,  is  alx)ve  all  the  philosophy  of  courage.  Its  character 
proper  is  the  strength  to  resist  one's  self,  to  hold  pain,  death, 
all  the  accidents  of  humanity,  in  contempt.  Its  model  is  Her- 
cules, the  god  of  strength  ;  all  the  great  men  of  antiquity, 
whether  consciously  or  not,  were  stoics  :  such  were  especially 
the  ancient  Roman  citizens ;  they  were  austere,  inexorable  ; 
slaves  to  duty  and  discipline,  faithful  to  their  oath,  to  their 
country  ; — Brutus,  Regulus,  Sceevola,  Decius,  and  thousands 
more  like  them,  ^^^len  stoicism  came  in  contact  with  the 
last  great  Romans,  it  found  material  all  ready  for  its  doc- 
trines ;  it  then  became  the  philosophy  of  the  last  republicans, 
the  last  heroes  of  a  world  which  Avas  fast  di-sappearing. 

The  courage  which  most  impresses  men  is  military  courage. 

"The  most  honorable  deaths  occur  in  war,"' says  Aristotle,  "  for  in 
war  the  danger  is  the  greatest  and  most  honorable.  The  public  honors 
that  are  awarded  in  states  and  by  monarchs  attest  this. 

*'  Properly,  then,  he  who  in  the  case  of  an  honorable  death,  and  under 
circumstances  close  at  hand  which  cause  death,  is  fearless,  may  be  called 
courageous  ;  and  the  dangers  of  war  are,  more  than  any  others,  of 
this  description,"  * 

In  looking  at  it  from  this  somewhat  exclusive  standpoint, 
Aristotle  refuses  to  call  courageous  those  who  brave  sickness 
and  poverty ;  "  for  it  is  possible,"  he  saj^s,  "  for  cowards,  in 
the  perils  of  war,  to  bear  with  much  firmness  the  losses  of 
fortune  ;"  nor  does  he  allow  to  be  called  courageous  "  him  who 
firmly  meets  the  strokes  of  the  whip  he  is  threatened  with." 

This  is  but  a  question  of  name  and  degree.    Wherever 

*  Aristotle,  Ifici^machean  Ethics.    Translated  by  R.  W.  Browne,  III.,  vi. 


284  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

there  are  any  evils  to  brave,  tlie  firmness  which  meets  and 
bears  these  evils  can  be  called  courage ;  on  the  other  hand, 
the  sense  of  the  word  can,  if  preferred,  be  restricted  to  mili- 
tary perils ;  but  what  Aristotle  has  most  justly  defined,  and  of 
which  he  makes  a  very  subtle  analysis,  is  the  difference  be- 
tween apparent  and  true  courage.  Thus  the  courage  of  con- 
straint and  necessity — as,  for  instance,  that  of  soldiers  who 
would  be  mercilessly  killed,  if  they  retreated  before  the  en- 
emy— is  not  true  courage,  for  one  cannot  be  brave  through 
fear,  il^or  should  anger  be  confounded  with  courage :  this 
were  but  the  courage  of  wild  beasts  obeying  a  blind  impulse 
Tinder  the  sting  of  pain.  At  that  rate,  the  donkeys  even, 
Avhen  hungry,  would  be  brave.  That  which  determines  true 
courage  is  the  sentiment  of  honor,  not  passion.  We  should 
neither  call  brave  him  who  is  so  only  because  he  feels  himself 
the  strongest,  like  the  drunkard  full  of  confidence  in  the  be- 
ginning, but  who  runs  away  when  he  does  not  succeed.  For 
this  reason  is  there  truer  courage  in  preserving  one's  intrepidity 
and  calm  in  sudden  dangers,  than  in  dangers  long  anticipated.* 
Finally,  ignorance  cannot  be  called  courage  either :  to  brave  a 
danger  one  is  ignorant  of,  is  only  to  be  apparently  brave. 

Aristotle  finds  also  in  courage  an  excellent  opportunity  to 
apply  his  celebrated  theory  of  the  golden  mean.  Courage  is 
for  him  a  medium  between  temerity  and  cowardice.  But  it 
is  not  the  too  much  or  too  little  in  danger  which  determines 
what  we  ought  to  call  courage.  There  are  cases  where  one 
may  be  obliged  to  brave  the  greatest  possible  danger  without 
being  for  that  rash ;  other  cases  where,  on  the  contrary,  one 
has  the  right  to  avoid  the  least  possible  peril  without  being  for 
that  a  coward.  The  true  principle  is  that  one  should  brave 
necessary  {.erils,  be  they  ever  so  great ;  and  likewise  avoid 
useless  perils,  be  they  ever  so  slight.  Yet,  the  question  of  de- 
gree should   not   be   wholly   overlooked.       There   are   some 

•  This  idea  of  Aristotle  may  be  questioned  ;  for,  in  a  sudden  peril,  one  may  be 
sustained  by  a  natural  impulse,  and  the  feeling  of  self-defense,  whilst  anticipated 
peril  allows  all  the  impressions  of  fear  to  grow  :  it  requires,  therefore,  a  greater 
cJ'oi-t  to  ;)vrrcome  them. 


DUTIES   RELATIVE   TO   THE   WILL.  285 

perils  which,  without  being  necessary,  it  is  useful  to  brave 
(were  it  but  to  train  one's  self  for  greater  ones).  kSuch  are, 
for  example,  the  clangers  connected  with  bodily  exercises. 
Peril  and  utility  must,  of  course,  be  compared  with  each  other; 
for  example,  he  who  from  considerations  of  utility  would  wish 
to  avoid  all  kinds  of  perds,  will  be  wanting  in  courage ;  and 
he  who,  on  the  contrary,  would  lightly  brave  an  extreme  peril, 
will  naturally  deserve  to  be  called  rash.  Thus  must  we  first 
consider  the  nature  of  the  peril,  and,  secondly,  the  degree. 

159.  Civic  courage. — Although  military  courage  is  the 
most  brilliant  and  popidar  form  of  courage,  it  may  be  asked 
whether  there  is  not  a  higher  and  nobler  form  still,  namely, 
civic  courage. 

Cicero,  who,  to  say  the  truth,  was  not  sufficiently  disinter- 
ested in  the  matter,  persists  in  showing  that  civic  virtues  are 
equal  to  military  virtues,  and  demand  an  equal  amount  of 
courage  and  energy.*  A  firm  and  high-souled  man,  he  says, 
has  no  trouble  in  difficult  circumstances,  to  preserve  his  pres- 
ence of  mind  and  the  free  use  of  his  reason,  to  provide  in  ad- 
vance against  events,  and  to  be  always  ready  for  action  when 
necessary. 

This  is  a  sort  of  courage  more  difficult  perhaps  than  the 
one  required  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle  with  the  enemy. 
Civic  life,  besides,  has  itself  trials  which  often  imperil  one's 
existence. 

Antiquity  has  left  us  innumerable  and  admirable  exam- 
ples of  civic  courage  against  tyranny.  Helvidius  Priscus  was 
thought  to  look  with  disapproval  upon  Vespasian's  administra- 
tion. The  latter  sent  him  word  to  keep  away  from  the  Sen- 
ate :  "  It  is  in  thy  power,"  replied  Helvidius,  "  to  forbid  my 
belonging  to  the  Senate,  but  as  long  as  I  belong  to  it,  I  shall 
attend  it." — "  Go,  then,"  said  the  emperor,  "  but  hold  thy 
tongue." — "  If  thou  ask  me  no  questions  I  will  make  thee  no 
answers." — "But  I  must  ask  thee  questions." — "And  I  must 
answer  thee  what  I  think  just." — "  If  thou  dost,  I  shall  have 

*  Dc  Officih,  I.,  ::xiii. 


286  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

thee  put  to  death." — "  When  have  I  said  to  thee  that  I  was 
immortair'  But  nothing  ever  surpassed  the  intrepidity  of 
Socrates,  either  before  the  Thirty  Tyrants  who  wished  to  inter- 
dict him  free  speech,*  or  before  the  people's  tribunals  which 
condemned  him  to  death  : 

Plato  in  his  Apology  makes  him  say  :  "If  you  were  to  tell  me  now, 
'  Socrates,  we  will  not  listen  to  Anytus  :  we  send  thee  back  absolved  on 
condition  that  thou  ceasest  philosophizing  and  givest  up  thy  accus- 
tomed researches,'  I  should  answer  you  without  hesitation,  '0  Atheni- 
ans, I  honor  and  love  you,  but  I  shall  obey  God  befoi-e  I  obey  you. '  " 

Then,  after  having  been  condemned  to  death,  he  closes  with 
these  admirable  words  : 

"  I  bear  ray  accusers,  and  those  who  have  condemned  me,  no  resent- 
ment, although  they  did  not  seek  my  good,  but  rather  to  injure  me. 
But  I  shall  ask  of  them  one  favor  :  I  beg  you,  when  my  children  shall  be 
grown  up,  to  persecute  them  as  I  have  myself  persecuted  you,  if  you  see 
that  they  prefer  riches  to  virtue.  .  .  If  you  grant  us  this  favor,  I  and 
my  children  shall  have  but  to  praise  your  justice.  But  it  is  time  we  go 
each  our  way  :  I  to  die,  you  to  live.  AVhich  of  us  has  the  better  part, 
you  or  I  ?     This  is  known  to  none  but  God." 

160.  Patience. — One  of  the  most  difficult  forms  of  courage 
is  that  which  consists  not  only  in  braving  or  repelling 
a  tlireatening  danger  (which  presupposes  some  effort  and 
activity),  but  in  bearing  without  anger,  without  any  sign 
of  vain  revolt,  the  ills  and  pains  of  life  :  this  is  patience. 
There  is  a  kind  of  patience  which  is  but  a  part  of  our  dutj'^ 
in  regard  to  others :  one  must  learn  to  bear  a  great  deal 
from  others,  they  having  often  a  great  deal  to  bear  from  us. 
But  we  speak  here  of  that  inner  patience  which  is  our  strength 
in  grief ;  the  patience  of  the  invalid  in  his  daily  sufferings ; 
that  of  the  poor  man  in  his  poverty ;  the  patience,  in  short, 
which  all  must  exercise  amidst  the  innumerable  and  inevitable 
accidents  of  life.  It  is,  above  all,  that  sort  of  virtue  which 
the  Stoics  meant  when  they  said  with  Epictetus  :  "  Yoii 
should  not  wish  things  to  happen  as  you  want  them  ;  but  you 

See  Xenophon's  Memorabilin  of  Socrates,  I.,  i. 


DUTIES   RELATIVE   TO   THE   WILL.  28? 

slioukl  wish  them  as  they  do  happen."  A  maxim  wliich 
Descartes  translated  substantially,  saying :  "  My  maxim  is 
rather  to  try  to  overcome  myself  than  fortune,  and  rather  to 
change  my  own  wishes  than  to  change  the  order  of  the  world." 
Wliich  he  explained  by  saying  : 

"  If  we  reganl  the  goods  whicli  lie  outside  of  us  as  unattainable  as 
those  we  are  deprived  of  from  our  birth,  we  shall  no  more  grieve  at  not 
possessing  them,  than  we  should  in  not  possessing  the  empires  of  China 
or  Mexico  ;  and,  making,  as  it  is  said,  a  virtue  of  necessity,  we  shall 
not  any  more  desire  to  be  healthy  when  ill,  or  to  be  free  when  in  prison, 
than  we  desire  now  to  have  bodies  of  as  incorruptible  a  stuff'  as  diamonds, 
or  to  have  wings  to  fly  with  like  birds. "  * 

It  is  this  kind  of  courage  wliich  at  every  moment  of  life 
is  most  in  requisition,  and  which  is  the  rarest ;  for  there  will 
be  found  plenty  of  men  capable  of  braving  death  when  the 
occasion  presents  itself  ;  but  to  bear  with  resignation  the  in- 
evitable and  constantly  renewed  ills  of  human  life,  is  a  virtue 
all  the  more  rare  as  one  is  scarcely  exev  ashamed  of  its  op- 
posite vice.  One  would  blush  to  fear  peril,  one  does  not 
blush  for  rebeUing  against  destiny  ;  one  is  willing  to  die  if 
necessary,  but  not  to  be  thwarted.  Yet  will  it  be  admitted 
that  to  succumb  under  the  weight  of  destiny,  is  a  kind  of 
cowardice.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  it  would  be  justly  said 
that  suicide  is  also  a  cowardly  act ;  for  whilst  it  is  true  that  it 
demands  a  certain  physical  courage,  it  is  also  true  that  the 
moral  courage  which  bears  the  ills  of  life  is  of  a  still  higher 
order. 

"You  take  a  journey  to  Olympia,"  says  Epictetus,  "to  behold  the 
work  of  Phidias,  and  each  of  you  thinks  it  a  misfortune  to  die  without 
a  knowledge  of  such  things  ;  and  will  you  have  no  inclination  to  see 
and  understand  those  works,  for  which  there  is  no  need  to  take  a 
journey  ;  but  which  are  ready  and  at  hand,  even  to  those  who  bestow 
no  pains  !  "Will  you  never  perceive  what  you  are,  or  for  what  you  were 
born,  or  for  what  jmrpose  you  are  admitted  to  behold  this  spectacle  ? 
But  there  are  in  life  some  things  unpleasant  and  difficult.  And  are 
there  none  at  Olympia  ?     Are  you  not  heated  ?     Are  you  not  crowded  ? 

*  DUcours  lie  la  Mcthode,  part  III. 


288  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

Are  you  not  without  good  convenieuces  for  bathing  ?  Are  you  not  wet 
through,  when  it  happens  to  rain  ?  Do  you  not  have  uiiroar  and  noise, 
and  other  disagreeable  circumstances?  But,  I  suppose,  by  comparing 
all  these  with  the  merit  of  the  spectacle,  you  support  and  endure  them. 
Well,  and  ha.ve  you  not  received  faculties  by  which  you  may  support 
every  event  ?  Have  you  not  received  greatness  of  soul  ?  Have  you  not 
received  a  manly  spirit  ?  Have  you  not  received  patience  ?  What 
signifies  to  me  anything  that  happens,  while  my  soul  is  above  it  ? 
What  shall  disconcert  or  trouble  or  appear  grievous  to  me  ?  Shall  I  not 
use  my  powers  to  that  jnirpose  for  v/hich  I  received  them  ;  but  lament 
and  groan  at  every  casualty  'i  "  * 

But  we  should  not  confound  true  strength,  true  courage, 
true  patience,  with  false  strength  and  ridiculous  obstinacy. 

"  An  acquaintance  of  mine,"  says  again  Epictetus,  "had,  for  no  reason, 
determined  to  starve  himself  to  death.  I  went  the  third  day,  and  in- 
quired what  was  the  matter.  He  answered:  'I  am  determined.' — • 
'  Well ;  but  what  is  your  motive  ?  For,  if  your  determination  be  right, 
w-e  will  stay,  and  assist  your  departure  ;  but  if  unreasonable,  change 
it. ' — '  We  ought  to  keep  our  determinations. ' — '  What  do  you  mean,  sir  ? 
Not  all  of  them  ;  but  such  as  are  right.  Else,  if  you  should  fancy  that 
it  is  night,  if  this  be  your  principle,  do  not  change,  but  persist  and  say, 
"  We  ought  to  keep  to  our  determinations."  '  What  do  you  mean,  sir? 
Not  to  all  of  them.  Why  do  you  not  begin  by  first  laying  the  founda- 
tion, inquiring  whether  your  determination  be  a  sound  one,  or  not ;  and 
then  build  your  firmness  and  constancy  upon  it.  For,  if  you  lay  a 
rotten  and  crazy  foundation,  you  must  not  build  ;  since  the  greater  and 
more  weighty  the  superstructure,  the  sooner  will  it  fall.  Without  any 
reason  you  are  withdra^^'ing  from  us,  out  of  life,  a  friend,  a  companion, 
a  fellow-citizen  both  of  the  greater  and  the  lesser  city  ;  and  while  you 
are  committing  murder,  and  destroying  an  innocent  person,  you  say, 
"We  must  keep  to  our  determinations."  Suppose,  by  any  means,  it 
should  ever  come  into  your  head  to  kill  me  ;  must  you  keep  to  such  a 
determination  ? '     * 

"  With  difficulty  this  person  was,  however,  at  last  convinced;  but 
there  are  .some  at  i>resent,  whom  there  is  no  convincing  ...   a  fool  will 

7ither  bend  nor  break. "  t 
161.    Moderation. — The  ancients  always  associated  with  pa- 
tience in  adversity  another  kind  of  courage,  no  less  rare  and 

♦  The  Works  of  Epictetus.     T.  W.  HiKSinson's  translation,  ch.  vi.,  p.  21. 
t  The  Works  of  Epictetus.    T.  W.  Iliggiiison's  translation,  ch.  xv.,  page  139. 


DUTIES   RELATIVE    TO   THE    WILL.  289 

difficiilt,  namely,  moderation  in  prosperity.  It  was  for  tlieni, 
in  some  respects,  one  and  the  same  virtue,  exercised  in  two 
opposite  conditions,  and  this  is  what  they  call  eqiiammity. 

"  Now,  during  our  prosperity,"  says  Cicero,  "  and  while 
things  flow  agreeably  to  our  desire,  we  ought,  with  great  care,  to 
avoid  pride  and  arrogance  ;  for,  as  it  discovers  weakness  not 
to  bear  adversity  with  equanimity,  so  also  with  prosperity. 
That  equanimity,  in  every  condition  of  life,  is  a  noble  attri- 
bute, and  that  uniform  expression  of  countenance  which  we 
find  recorded  of  Socrates,  and  also  of  Caius  Laelius.  Panae- 
tius  tells  us,  his  scholar  and  friend,  Africanus,  used  to  say  that 
as  horses,  grown  unruly  by  being  in  frequent  engagements, 
are  delivered  over  to  be  tamed  by  horse-breakers,  thus  men, 
who  grow  riotous  and  self-sufficient  by  prosperity,  ought,  as  it 
were,  to  be  exercised  in  the  traverse  *  of  reason  and  philoso- 
phy, that  they  may  learn  the  inconstancy  of  human  affairs  and 
the  uncertainty  of  fortune.! 

Nothing  occurs  more  frequently  among  the  ancient  poets 
and  moralists  than  this  idea  of  the  vicissitude  of  human 
things.  The  metaphor  of  Fortune's  wheel,  which  sometimes 
lowers  to  the  greatest  depth  those  it  raised  highest,  is  well 
known.  We  need  scarcely  dwell  upon  this  commonplace  say- 
ing wliich  has  never,  for  an  instant,  ceased  to  be  true ; 
although  the  more  regular  conditions  of  modern  society  have 
introduced  more  security  and  uniformity  in  life,  at  least  for 
those  who  live  wisely  and  with  moderation.  Yet  is  no  one 
secure  against  the  changes  of  fortune  ;  there  are  unexpected 
elevations  as  there  are  sudden  falls  ;  and  firmness  in  either 
bad  or  good  fortime  will  always  be  necessary. 

162.  Equality  of  temper ;  anger. — To  equality  of  temper 
or  possession  of  one's  self,  there  is  still  another  obligation  at- 
tached :  that  of  avoiding  anger,  a  passion  which  the  ancients 
with  reason  considered  the  principle  of  courage,  {  but   which 

♦  Latin,  gyrus,  the  ring  in  which  colts  are  driven  round  by  Iiorse-breakers. 
t  Cicero,  De  Officiis,  I.,  xxvi. 

I  Plato's  Rejiuhlic,  I.,  iv.  :   A  man  deserves  to  be  called  courageous  when  tliat 
part  of  his  soul  in  which  anger  resides  obeys  the  commands  of  reason. 


290  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

of  itself  is  without  any  rules,  and  is  more  proper  to  beasts 
than  men.  Aristotle  has  described  the  irascible  disposition 
with  great  accuracy.  He  justly  distinguishes  two  kinds  of 
anger ;  one  where  a  man  is  easily  carried  away,  and  as  easily 
appeased  again,  and  the  other  where  resentment  is  nursed 
and  kept  up  for  a  long  time.  The  first  is  the  irascible  dispo- 
sition ;   the  second,  the  splenetic  or  vindictive  disposition. 

"  Irascible  men,"  says  Aristotle,  "  are  easily  angered,  with  improper 
objects,  on  improper  occasions,  and  too  much;  but  their  anger  quickly 
ceases,  and  this  is  the  best  point  in  their  character.  And  this  is  the 
case  with  them,  because  they  do  not  restrain  their  anger,  but  retaliate 
openly  and  visibly,  because  of  their  impetuosity,  and  then  they  become 
calm.  — But  the  bitter  are  difficult  to  be  appeased,  and  retain  their  anger 
a  long  time,  for  they  repress  their  rage  ;  but  there  comes  a  cessation, 
when  they  have  retaliated  ;  for  revenge  makes  their  anger  cease,  because 
it  produces  pleasure  instead  of  the  previous  pain.  But  if  they  do  not 
get  revenge,  they  feel  a  weight  of  disappointment :  for,  oiling  to  its  not 
showing  itself,  no  one  reasons  with  them  ;  and  there  is  need  of  time  for 
a  man  to  digest  his  anger  within  him.  Persons  cf  this  character  are 
very  troublesome  to  themselves,  and  to  their  best  friends. "  * 

Seneca,  in  his  treatise  on  Anger,  has  conclusively  showTi  all 
the  evils  this  passion  carries  with  it,  and  of  which  Horace 
justly  said  :  "  Anger  is  a  short  madness." 

Yet,  if  anger  is  an  evil,  apathy,  absolute  indifference,  is  far. 
from  being  a  good.  Whilst  there  is  a  brutal  and  beastly 
anger,  there  is  also  a  noble,  a  generous  anger,  namely,  that 
which  is  at  the  service  of  noble  sentiments.  Plato  describes 
it  in  the  following  terms  : 

"  When  we  are  convinced  that  injustice  has  been  done  us, 
does  it  not  plead  the  cause  of  what  appears  to  it  to  be  just  1 
Instead  of  allowing  itself  to  be  overcome  by  hunger,  by 
cold,  by  all  sorts  of  ill-treatments,  does  it  not  overcome  them  ? 
It  never  ceases  a  moment  to  make  generous  efforts  toward 
obtaining  satisfaction,  and  nothing  but  death  depriving  it  of  its 
power,  or  reason  persuading  or  silencing  it,  as  the  shepherd 
silences  his  dog,  can  stop  it."t 

*  Aristotle,  Nicomachean  Etldct,  R.  W.  Browne's  transl.,  IV.,  v. 
t  Plato's  Republic,  I.,  iv. 


DUTIES    RELATIVE   TO   THE    WILL.  291 

Aristotle  also  approves  of  this  generous  anger,  and  blames 
those  with  souls  too  cold  : 

"One  can  only  call  stupid  those  wlio  cannot  be  aroused  to  anger 
about  things  where  real  anger  ought  to  be  felt.  .  .  He  who  does  not 
then  get  angry  appears  insensible  and  ignorant  of  what  just  indignation 
means.  One  might  even  believe  him,  since  he  has  no  feeling  of  courage, 
unable  to  defend  himself  when  necessary.  But  it  is  the  cowardice  of 
the  slave's  to  accept  an  insult  and  to  allow  his  kin  to  be  attacked  with 
impunity."  * 

But  that  uhicli  is  not  easy,  as  Aristotle  remarks,  is  to  find 
an  exact  and  proper  medium  between  apathy  and  violence  : 

"  It  is  difficidt  to  determine  with  accuracy  the  manner,  the 
persons,  the  occasions,  and  the  length  of  time  for  which  one 
ought  to  be  angry,  and  at  what  point  one  ceases  to  act  rightly 
or  wrongly.  For  he  who  transgresses  the  limit  a  little  is  not 
blamed,  whether  it  be  on  the  side  of  excess  or  deficiency  :  and 
we  sometimes  praise  those  Avho  fall  short,  and  call  them  meek  ; 
and  we  call  the  irascible  manly,  as  being  able  to  govern  .  .  . 
the  decision  must  be  left  to  particular  cases,  and  to  the  moral 
sense."  t 

163.  Personal  dignity. — A  generous  anger,  as  has  been 
seen,  has  its  principle  in  the  sentiment  of  jjersonal  dignity, 
with  which  the  duty  of  seJf-resj^ed  is  connected. 

Man's  free  will  is  what  essentially  constitutes  the  dignity 
of  human  nature,  the  moral  personality.  Man's  duty  toward 
himself  as  a  moral  personality  is  then  dependent  upon  his 
will. 

This  duty  of  self-respect,  of  the  moral  personality,  has  been 
admirably  expressed  by  Kant,  and  Ave  can  do  no  better  than 
1»ranscribe  here  the  passage  : 

"  Man,  considered  as  an  animal,  is  a  being  of  but  mediocre 
importance,  and  is  not  Avorth  any  more  than  other  animals. 
His  utility  and  Avorth  is  that  of  any  marketable  thing.— But, 

*  Anger  is  still  nobler  when  provoked  by  injustice  done  to  others. 
t  Aristotle,  Niconvtchean  Ethics,  IV.,  v. 


292  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

considered  as  a  personality,  he  is  priceless ;  he  is  possessed  of 
a  dignity  which  can  claim  the  respect  of  all  other  reasonable 
creatures,  and  which  allows  him  to  measure  himself  with 
each  of  them,  and  consider  himself  their  equal. 

"  But  this  respect,  which  he  has  a  right  to  exact  of  every 
other  man,  he  should  not  despoil  himself  of.  He  can,  and 
should,  therefore,  estimate  himself  both  in  ratio  to  his  great- 
ness and  littleness,  according  as  he  considers  himself  a  sen- 
suous being  (in  his  animal  nature),  or  an  intelligent  being  (in 
his  moral  nature).  But  as  he  shoidd  not  only  consider  him- 
self as  a  person  in  general,  but  also  as  an  individual  man,  his 
lesser  worth  as  animal-man  should  not  imjDair  the  conscious- 
ness he  has  of  his  dignity  as  reasonable  man,  and  he  must 
hold  on  to  the  moral  estimate  he  makes  of  himself  as  such. 
In  other  words,  he  should  not  pursue  his  aims  in  a  lowly  and 
servile  manner,  as  if  he  solicited  favors  :  this  wovild  be  abdi- 
cating his  dignity ;  he  should  always  uphold  within  himself 
the  consciousness  of  the  nobility  of  his  moral  faculties,  for  it 
is  this  estimate  of  one's  self  which  constitutes  the  duty  of 
man  toward  himself. 

"  The  consciousness  and  conviction  of  our  little  moral  worth, 
compared  with  what  the  law  requires  of  us,  is  moral  humilit3^ 
The  contrary  consciousness  and  conviction,  namely,  the  per- 
suading ourselves,  for  want  of  this  comparison,  that  we  are  of 
very  great  worth,  may  be  called  the  pride  of  virtue. — To 
reject  all  claim  to  any  moral  worth  whatsoever,  in  the  hope  of 
acquiring  thereby  a  hidden  worth,  is  a  false  moral  humility 
and  an  abasement  of  the  mind.  To  undervalue  one's  own 
moral  worth  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  thereby  the  favor  of 
another  (through  hypocrisy  or  flattery,  namely),  is  also  a  false 
humility,  and,  moreover,  an  abasement  of  one's  personality. 
True  humility  should  of  necessity  be  the  result  of  an  exact 
and  sincere  comparison  of  one's  self  with  the  moral  law  (with 
its  sanctity  and  severity).  This  duty  relative  to  the  human 
dignity  in  our  personality  may  be  more  or  less  clearly  stated 
in  the  following  precepts :    Be  no  man's  slave ;   let  not  your 


DUTIES   KELATIVE   TO   THE    WILL.  293 

rights  be  trampled  under  foot ;  contract  no  debts  for  wliich 
you  cannot  give  full  security ;  accept  no  gifts  which  you  can 
do  without;  be  neither  a  parasite,  nor  a  flatterer,  nor  a  beggar; 
complaints  and  lamentations,  even  a  single  cry  wrung  from  us 
by  bodily  pain,  are  things  unworthy  of  us  (still  more  unworthy 
if  the  pain  is  deserved).  Therefore  is  a  criminal's  death  en- 
nobled by  the  firmness  with  wliich  he  meets  it.  Can  he 
who  makes  himself  a  worm  complain  if  he  be  crushed  ?  "  * 

164.  True  and  false  pride. — We  should,  however,  not 
confound  a  true  and  noble  pride,  without  which  man  is  but  a 
thing  and  a  slave,  with  a  passion  which  looks  like  it,  but 
which  is  but  its  phantom  ;  I  mean  fahe  pride.  True  pride  is 
the  just  feeling  man  has  of  his  moral  dignity,  and  which  in- 
terdicts him  to  humble  the  human  personality  in  others,  or  to 
allow  it  to  be  humbled  in  himself.  False  pride  is  the  exag- 
gerated feeling  we  entertain  in  regard  to  our  own  advantages 
and  superiority  over  other  men.  True  pride  is  related  to 
what  there  is  sacred  and  divine  in  us  ;  false  pride,  on  the 
contrary,  feeds  and  grows  fat  on  the  trifling  and  petty  con- 
cerns of  our  mere  individuality.  There  is  in  man,  the  stoics 
said,  an  inner  god  :  the  human  essence,  namely,  of  which  the 
individual  is  but  the  depository,  and  which  he  ought  to 
keep  sacred  and  holy  as  a  divine  host.  This  respect  for 
the  human  personality,  religious  morality  calls  holiness ; 
worldly  morality  calls  it  honor ;  it  is  one  and  the  same  prin- 
ciple under  diff'erent  forms  ;  it  is  the  idea  of  something  sacred 
in  us  which  we  must  neither  stain  nor  debase.  ■  True  pride 
rests  then  on  what  there  is  common  among  all  men,  on  what 
makes  them  equals.  False  pride,  on  the  contrary,  regards 
chiefly  our  peculiarities,  and  what  we  call  more  especially  our 
own.  True  pride  asks  for  nothing  more  than  to  be  free  from 
oppression  ;  false  pride  wants  to  oppress  others.  True  pride 
is  noble ;  false  pride,  brutal  and  insolent.  Of  course  it  has 
its  degrees  according   to   the  nature   of   the  advantages   of 

*  Kant,  Doctrine  de  la  Vertu,  trad,  fran^.,  p.  90. 


294  ELEMENTS    OP    MORALS, 

which  it  boasts.  The  pride,  for  example,  which  boasts  of 
material  advantages,  is  the  grossest  of  all ;  pride  of  birth  and 
ancestry  is  more  pardonable,  but  if  he  who  is  proud  of  them 
shows  it  too  much  he  becomes  disgusting,  and  true  pride  will 
have  a  right  to  protect  itself  against  that  kind  of  false  pride. 
He,  again,  who  is  proud  of  his  intellectual  advantages  is  less 
blameworthy  than  the  former,  for  these  advantages  belong,  at 
least,  to  his  personality ;  but  as  they  are  not  due  to  the  man, 
and  as,  however  great  they  may  be,  they  have  still  their  weak 
sides,  this  also  is  an  inexcusable  pride.  The  pride  which 
might  appear  to  be  the  most  pardonable  is  the  pride  of  virtue, 
if  there  were  not  in  some  respects  a  sort  of  contradiction  of 
terms  in  drawing  advantage  and  honor  from  a  good  the 
essentiality  of  which  consists  in  self-forgetfulness  and  the 
pure  and  simple  observance  of  the  la^'. 

The  diminutive  of  false  pride  is  vanity.  False  pride  looks 
to  great  things,  at  least  to  such  as  appear  great  to  men; 
vanity  boasts  of  the  smallest.  False  pride  is  insulting ;  van- 
ity wounding.  The  one  is  odious,  the  other  ridiculous.  The 
lowest  order  of  vanity  is  foppishness,  or  the  vanity  of  external 
advantages — the  person,  the  toilet,  superficial  accomplishments. 
This  diminutive  of  false  pride  is  one  of  the  most  pitiable  of 
passions,  and  should  be  combated  by  manly  efforts. 

165.  Modesty. — The  virtue  opposed  to  false  pride,  and 
which,  besides,  is  nowise  irreconcilaljlo  with  true  pride,  is 
modesty,  a  correct  feeling,  namely,  of  one's  just  worth.  Mo- 
rality does  not  forbid  us  a  proper  estimate  of  our  merits  ;  these 
merits,  besides,  having  but  a  relative  value,  and  representing 
but  faintly  the  high  ideal  we  should  always  keep  before  our 
eyes.  To  fail  to  appreciate  the  advantages  we  owe  to  nature, 
is  often  indicative  only  of  laziness  and  apathy.  He  who 
depreciates  himself  is  not  disposed  to  turn  what  there  is  in  him 
to  account.  This  self-depreciation,  in  order  to  avoid  the  re- 
sponsibility of  using  his  faculties,  is  often  but  a  subterfuge 
and  the  soi)histry  of  indolence.  There  is  nothing  contrary  to 
duty  in  the  acknowledgment  of  our  worth,  so  long  as  we  do 


DUTIES    RELATIVE   TO   THE    WILL.  295 

not  boast  of  it,  but  thank  Providence  for  it,  and  put  to  use 
the  gifts  it  has  conferred  on  us.  If,  on  the  contrary,  the 
question  is  of  virtues  we  have  acquired  by  our  own  efforts,  the 
satisfaction  we  experience  from  it  is  but  the  just  recompense 
of  these  efforts  ;  and  such  a  feeling  could  not  be  condemned  ; 
for  such  condemnation  woidd  be  a  virtual  protest  against  the 
moral  conscience,  which  consists  as  much  in  the  satisfaction  we 
derive  from  good  actions  as  in  the  regrets  Avhich  accompany 
the  bad. 

Unquestionably,  "  the  left  hand  should  not  know  what  the 
right  hand  doeth  ; "  which  means  that  we  should  not  every- 
where proclaim  aloud  our  good  actions,  and  that  we  should  as 
much  as  possible  forget  them.  But  this  forgetting  should  not 
'go  so  far  as  indifference ;  for  our  morality  depends  upon  our 
consciousness. 

But  if  it  is  lawful  for  man  to  rejoice  over  his  natural  or  ac- 
quired gifts,  it  is  on  the  condition  that  he  do  not  exaggerate 
tlieir  import :  this  is  easy  enough  if  we  compare  ourselves  to 
those  who  are  still  better  gifted  than  we  are,  or  think  of  what 
we  should  and  could  do  with  greater  efforts,  more  courage, 
better  will ;  or  in  recognizing  the  narrow  scope,  limits,  and 
defects  of  these  gifts,  or  in  keeping,  above  all,  oiir  eyes  more 
open  to  our  faults  than  our  good  qualities.  Beware  of  the 
beam  of  the  Gospel. 

Modesty  should  not  only  be  external,  but  internal  also ;  ex- 
ternally, it  is  above  all  a  duty  we  owe  others,  whom  we  should 
not  humble  by  our  superior  advantages  ;  internally,  it  is  a 
duty  to  ourselves,  for  we  should  not  deceive  ourselves  about 
our  own  worth.  One  is  sometimes  modest  externally  without 
being  so  internally,  and  conversely.  I  may  pretend  before 
men  to  have  no  great  opinion  of  myself,  whilst  internally  I  am 
full  of  conceit :  .this  is  sheer  hypocrisy.  I  may,  on  the  other 
hand,  externally  attribute  to  myself  advantages  which  my  con- 
science altogether  denies  :  this  is  bragging.  One  should  be 
modest  both  inwardly  and  outwardly,  in  words  and  actiona 
But  how,'  in  what  manner,  and  to  what  degree  must  we  be 


296  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

modest  ?  It  is  impossible  in  matters  so  delicate  to  establish 
definite  rules,  and  the  decision  must  be  left  to  our  own  judg- 
ment. 

There  is  another  virtue  to  be  distinguished  from  modesty, 
namely,  lucmilitij.  Humility  should  not  be  an  abasement ;  for 
it  is  never  a  virtue  in  man  to  lower  himself.  But,  even  as 
dignity  and  true  pride  are  virtues  which  spring  from  a  proper 
sense  of  human  greatness,  so  humility  is  a  virtue  which 
springs  from  a  proper  sense  of  human  weakness.  Remember 
that  thou  art  a  man  and  do  not  degrade  thyself :  this  is  self- 
respect.  Remember  that  thou  art  but  a  man  and  do  not  allow 
tliyself  to  indulge  in  vain  pride ;  this  is  humility.  Modesty 
relates  to  the  individual ;  humility  to  human  nature  in  gen- 
eral. As  to  that  false  humility  which  consists  in  lowering 
one's  self  before  men  unnecessarily,  and  without  any  occasion 
for  it  (like  Tartufe,  for  example : 

"Yes,  brother,  I  am  a  sinner  and  a  WTetch  !  "  *), 
it  is  but  the  falsehood  of  virtue,  and  should  be  rejected  by  all 
manly  and  generous  morality. 

166.  Duties  relative  to  sentiment. — A  last  point  which 
should  nijt  be  neglected  is  this  :  has  man,  as  far  as  he  is  en- 
dowed with  moral  sensibility — that  is  to  say,  as  far  as  he  is  a 
susceptible  being — capable  of  love,  enthusiasm,  affection,  any 
duties  toward  himself  1 

Kant  maintains  that  love  cannot  be  an  object  of  duty  ;  that 
no  one  is  obliged  to  love  :  that  sentiment  is  phenomenal  and 
belongs  to  the  order  of  nature,  and  can  neither  be  produced 
nor  prevented  ;  that,  consequently,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with 
morals.  The  only  love  admitted  by  Kant  in  morals  is  what 
he  calls  prarMcal  love  :  namely,  the  love  which  consists  in 
actions  and  does  others  good,  or  any  kind  of  sentiment  accom- 
panying benevolence,  provided  it  be  a  disinterested  sentiment. 
"  All  other  love,"  he  says  in  his  odd  and  energetic  language, 
"  is  jxdhological,"  that  is,  sickly. 

*  Moliere's  Tartufe. 


DUTIES   RELATIVE   TO   THE   WILL.  297 

Kant,  no  doubt,  is  right  if  he  means  that  false  sentimen- 
tality or  feeble  softness,*  which  the  poet  Gilbert  has  so  well 
described,  and  which  the  enervating  literature  of  the  latter  part 
of  the  eighteenth  century  made  so  ridiculous.  We  should  take 
care  not  to  fall  into  an  effeminate  tenderness  or  a  silly  philan- 
thropy which  sacritices  justice  to  a  mawkish  sensibility.  But 
all  danger  and  defects  set  aside,  there  still  remains  the  ques- 
tion whether  we  owe  anything  to  our  own  heart,  and  whether 
the  only  thing  directly  commanded  us,  be  action. 

It  is  quite  true  that  it  is  not  an  effect  of  our  will  if  our 
heart  is  more  or  less  tender,  more  or  less  sympathetic.  Nature 
has  made  some  souls  gentle  and  amiable,  others  austere  and 
cold,  others  again  heroic  and  hard,  etc.;  the  moralists  should 
not  forget  these  differences,  and  the  degree  of  sensibility  obli- 
gatory on  all  cannot  be  absolutely  determined.  But  there  are 
two  facts  which  certainly  oblige  us  to  put  some  restrictions 
upon  Kant's  too  harsh  doctrine.  The  first  is  that  moral 
emotion  (affection,  enthusiasm  for  the  beautiful,  for  our  coun- 
try) is  never  wholly  absent  in  any  human  soul ;  the  second  is 
that  sensibility  does  not  altogether  lie  outside  our  aviU.  We 
can  smother  our  good  feelings  as  we  can  smother  our  evil  pas- 
sions ;  we  can  also  cultivate  them,  develop  them,  encourage 
them ;  give  them  a  greater  or  less  share  in  our  lives,  by  plac- 
ing ourselves  in  circumstances  which  favor  them.  For  ex- 
ample, say  such  or  such  a  person  is  but  slightly  endowed  with 
sensibility  or  sympathy  for  the  sufferings  of  the  Avretched ; 
yet  is  it  impossible  that  he  be  entirely  deprived  of  them  :  let 
him  overcome  his  repugnance  and  indifference ;  let  him  visit 
the  poor,  put  himself  at  the  service  of  human  misery ;  the 
dormant  sympathy  will  inevitably  awaken  in  his  heart.     By 

♦  And  shall  I  speak  of  Iris,  loved  and  praised  by  all  ? 
Ah  !  what  heart !  ah  !  what  heart !  humanity  itself  I 
A  wounded  butterfly  calls  forth  the  truest  tears  ! 
Ah,  yes  ;  but  when  to  death  poor  Lally  is  condemned, 
And  to  the  block  is  dragged,  a  spectacle  to  all, 
Iris  will  be  the  first  to  go  to  the  dread  feast. 
And  buy  herself  the  joy  to  see  his  dear  head  fall. 

GiLBF.uT,  le  Dix-Huiticme  Siicle. 


298  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

this  fact  alone  will  he  be  enabled  to  do  good  with  more  ease, 
and  raise  his  soul  to  a  higher  degree  of  perfection  and  l)eauty. 
Not  only  should  sentiment  not  be  excluded  from  virtue,  as 
Kant  in  his  excessive  austerity  demands,  but  it  should  be  con- 
sidered its  ornament  and  bloom.  "  The  virtuous  man,"  says 
Aristotle,  "is  he  who  takes  pleasure  in  doing  virtuous  acts." 
One  should  therefore  endeavor  to  awaken  in  one's  self,  if  one 
has  not  yet  experienced  it,  or  develop,  if  one  has  already  ex- 
perienced it,  the  noble  pleasure  which  accompanies  great 
sentiments.  On  the  other  hand,  and  for  the  same  reason 
that  it  is  a  duty  for  man  to  develop  within  him,  in  the  limits 
of  the  possible,  the  share  of  sensibility  he  may  have  received 
from  nature,  it  is  also  his  duty  not  to  encoui\age  this  same  dis- 
position too  much  if  he  should  be  inclined  this  way.  For 
sensibility  should  only  be  an  auxiliary  and  a  stimulant  to 
virtue ;  it  should  never  take  its  place  :  otherwise  it  will  lead 
us  astray.  An  exaggerated  sensibility  often  smothers  the 
voice  of  justice,  enervates  us,  and  deprives  us  of  the  robust 
courage  we  need  in  life.  There  is  a  reasonable  limit  which 
tact  and  experience  alone  can  teach  us.  Morality  can  only 
give  advice  and  directions.  More  precise  rules  are  impossible, 
and  would  be  ridiculous.  There  is  no  moral  thermometer  to 
indicate  the  degree  of  heart-heat  each  of  us  is  allowed  and  is 
obliged  to  have.  Let  us  only  say,  that  in  so  delicate  a 
matter,  it  is  better  to  have  too  much  sensibility  than  too 
little. 


CHAPTEE   XV. 

EELIGIOUS   MORALITY. — RELIGIOUS   RIGHTS   AND   DUTIES. 


SUMMARY. 

Are  there  duties  toward  God  ? 

Duties  toward  God.— Analysis  of  the  religious  sentiment. — Two 

elements  :  1,  the  sentiment  of  the  infinite;  2,  the  need  of  hope  and 

consolation. 
Can  sentiment  become  a  duty  ? 
Indirect  duties  toward  God. — Piety  united  with  all  the  acts  of  life  : 

1,  obedience  ;  2,  resignation  ;  3,  love  of  God  united  to  that  of  man. 
Tlie  idea  of  God  in  morals. — God  the  surety  of  the  moral  law. 
Religious  society. — Fenelon  and  Epictetus. 
Religious  rights.— Liberty  of  conscience  :  liberty  of  opinion,  liberty  of 

worship,  liberty  of  propagandism. 

It  is  not  our  purpose  to  speak  here  of  the  diiFerent  forms  of 
religious  thought  among  men :  tljis  is  the  special  domain  of 
conscience ;  but  among  all  these  forms,  is  there  no  common 
ground  which  may  be  said  to  belong  to  the  human  soul,  and 
which  is  found  to  be  the  same  with  the  sages  of  pagan  an- 
tiquity and  the  modem  philosophers,  although  they  may  not 
have  adopted  any  special  form  of  worship  ?  Yes.  This  com- 
mon ground  of  all  religion  is  the  idea  of  God. 

167.  Are  there  any  duties  toward  God? — If,  as  we  have 
seen  in  our  first  book  (Vol.  L,  last  chapter),  there  is  a  God,  that 
is  to  say,  an  author  of  the  physical  and  moral  universe,  and  its 
preserver  and  protector  and  father,  it  follows  that  man,  as 
a  part  of  this  universe,  and  distinguished  from  its  other  creat- 
ures by  the  fact  that  he  knows  himself  to  be  a  child  of  God, 
is  held  to  entertain  toward  this  supreme  father,  sentiments  of 


300  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

gratitude  and  respect,  and  toward  this  supreme  judge  senti- 
ments of  fear  and  hope,  all  of  which  gives  rise  to  a  whole  class 
of  duties. 

Some  doubts  have  been  raised  on  this  point  by  certain 
philosophers,  and  the  question  has  been  asked  whether  man, 
so  out  of  all  proportion  when  compared  to  God,  cordd  have 
any  duties  toward  Him  ?  It  has  been  said,  moreover,  that 
there  could  be  no  duty  toward  a  being  to  whom  we  can  do 
neither  good  nor  harm.  God,  the  essence  of  all  perfection 
and  supreme  happiness,  can  have  nothing  added  to  nor  taken 
from  these  by  us.  We  are  therefore  under  no  obligation  to 
him  whatsoever. 

I.  As  for  the  absolute  disproportion  we  imagine  to  exist 
between  God  and  man,  this  disproportion  does  not  prevent  my 
having  an  idea  of  God :  why  should  it  prevent  my  loving 
him  and  putting  myself  in  relation  with  him  1  Fenelon  justly 
said  :  "  Nothing  is  so  wonderful  as  the  idea  of  God  which  I 
carry  within  myself ;  it  is  the  infinite  contained  within  the 
finite.  That  which  is  within  me  is  infinitely  beyond  me.  I 
do  not  understand  how  it  comes  to  be  in  my  mind,  and  yet  it 
is  there,  nevertheless.  This  indelible  and  incomprehensible 
idea  of  the  Divine  Being  is  what,  despite  my  imperfection 
and  weakness,  makes  me  resemble  him.  As  he  infinitely 
knows  and  loves  himself,  so  do  I,  according  to  my  power, 
know  and  love  him.  I  can  love  the  infinite  by  no  other 
means  than  by  my  finite  knowledge,  and  love  it  by  no  other 
than  a  love  as  finite  as  myself.  ...  I  wish  my  love 
were  as  limitless  as  the  perfection  it  loves.  It  is  true,  again, 
that  this  knowledge  and  this  love  are  not  equally  as  perfect 
as  their  object,  but  the  man  who  knows  and  loves  God  accord- 
ing to  his  measure  of  knowledge  and  love  is  incomparably 
more  worthy  of  this  perfect  being  than  the  man  without  God 
in  the  world,  caring  neither  to  know  nor  to  love  him."* 
Hence  it  can  be  concluded  that  the  duties  of  man  toward 
God  are  implied  in  the  knowledge  he  has  of  him. 

♦  Lettre  sur  la  metaphysiqve,  lettre  II.,  chap.  ix. 


RELIGIOUS    MOLALITY.  301 

2.  As  to  the  second  difficulty,  it  consists  in  saying  that 
God  being  susceptible  of  neither  benefits  nor  injuries,  it  is 
not  quite  clear  what  acts  we  could  perform  in  his  belialf. 
But  the  question  is  precisely  to  know  whether  we  only  owe 
duties  to  beings  susceptible  of  benefits  and  injuries.  We 
have,  for  example,  to  perform  duties  of  justice,  love,  respect 
toward  the  dead,  although  we  can  do  them  neither  good  nor 
harm,  since  they  arc  dead  ;  and  although  we  have  reason  to 
think  that  the  dead  still  exist  under  another  fonn,  the  duties 
we  still  owe  them,  are  independ^nit  of  this  consideration,  and 
notwithstanding  the  doubt  of  the  immortality  of  souls,  or  their 
relations  with  the  living,  these  duties  still  subsist :  those  souls 
might  be  so  happy,  and  in  conditions  so  different  from  those  of 
our  earthly  life,  that  they  might  have  become  wholly  indifferent 
to  such,  at  least  to  harm.  A  historian,  for  instance,  would 
not  be  justified  in  slandering  his  heroes  under  the  pretext 
that,  not  believing  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  he  knew  he 
could  do  them  no  harm.  Man,  even  in  this  life,  can,  through 
patience  and  gentleness,  so  rise  above  all  insidts  as  to  become 
AvhoUy  insensible  to  them  :  which  fact,  however,  does  not  im- 
ply that  the  insults  done  him  are  innocent.  The  same  man 
micht  be  so  modest  as  to  feel  no  need  of  any  homage,  which 
would  make  it  no  less  a  duty  of  justice  on  the  part  of  others 
to  render  him  all  the  homage  that  is  due  him.  Wholly  in- 
ward feelings,  not  evidenced  by  any  outward  act  whatsoever, 
cannot  in  reality  do  their  object  any  good  or  harm  ;  yet  no  one 
will  question  their  being  duties.  It  may  then  be  seen  that  duty 
is  not  regulated  by  the  good  or  evil  which  may  outwardly  be 
done,  but  by  the  order  of  things  which  requires  that  every  being 
be  loved  and  respected  according  to  his  merit.  Now,  from  this 
standpoint,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  God,  who  is  supreme 
perfection  and  the  principle  of  all  order  and  justice,  is  the 
legitimate  object  of  the  highest  respect  and  the  profoundest 
love. 

It  may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  these  sentiments  toward  the 
Creator  are  rather  duties  we  owe  ourselves  than  God,  for  it  is 


303  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

for  our  own  sakes  that  we  are  bound  to  give  to  our  sensibility 
and  affection  the  highest  object  they  can  have.  Since  the 
perfection  and  the  dignity  of  the  soul  are  enhanced  by  reli- 
gion, it  is  our  duty  to  be  religious. 

Fen^lon  is  quite  right  when  he  says  that  "  the  man  who 
knows  and  loves  God  is  more  worthy  of  him  than  he  who 
lives  without  him."  Is  it  not  the  same  as  to  say  that  religion 
rendering  man  more  like  God,  and  bringing  him  nearer  to 
him,  man  owes  it  to  himself  to  rise  above  himself  through 
piety  and  the  love  of  God  ? 

But  it  matters  very  little  how  we  explain  the  nature  of  the 
duties  toward  God,  provided  we  recognize  them.  Whether 
they  be  considered  a  distinct  class,  or  whether  we  only  see  in 
them  the  highest  degree  of  man's  duties  toward  himself ;  all 
this  is  but  a  useless  speculation.  We  could  say  conversely, 
and  with  equal  justice,  that  our  duties  toward  ourselves  are 
but  a  part  of  our  duties  toward  God :  for  duty  itself,  in  its 
highest  conception,  being  to  reach  after  the  highest  possible 
perfection,  we  can  say,  with  Plato,  that  virtue  is  the  imitation 
of  God ;  that,  consequently,  man  owes  it  to  himself  to  re- 
semble God  as  much  as  possible,  and  that,  conversely,  he 
owes  God,  as  the  type  of  supreme  perfection,  to  draw  ever 
nearer  to  him  through  self-improvement.  But  how  could  he 
seek  to  draw  nearer  to  God's  supreme  perfection  if  he  did  not 
entertain  for  him  the  feelings  of  love  and  respect,  which  con- 
stitute wliat  we,  in  general,  call  religious  sentiment  ? 

168.  Duties  toward  God. — Analysis  of  the  religious 
sentiment. — What  is  called  duties  toioard  God.  is  nothing 
else  than  the  different  acts  by  which  we  endeavor  to  bring 
about,  cultivate,  develop  in  us,  or  in  otliers,  religious  senti- 
ment. Wlien  these  acts  are  external,  and  take  a  certain  defi- 
nite form,  they  constitute  what  is  called  mdioard  worship,  and 
are  conseijuent  upon  positive  religions.  When  they  are  con- 
centrated in  the  soul,  and  confined  to  sentiments,  they  con- 
stitute what  is  called  inner  worship}.  The  virtue  which  cor- 
responds to  these  inner  acts  and  sentiments  is  called  piety. 


RELIGIOUS   MOEALITT.  303 

The  duties  toward  God  being  thus  bknided  with  rehgious 
sentiment  we  must,  in  order  to  set  them  forth,  first  analyze 
this  sentiment. 

Kehgious  sentiment  is  composed  of  two  elements  :  one 
wliich  may  be  called  metaphysical;*  the  other,  moral.  1.  Met- 
aphysically, the  love  of  God  is  the  sentiment  of  the  infinite, 
the  need  of  attaching  ourselves  to  the  absolute,  the  eternal, 
the  immutable,  the  true  in  itself — in  one  word,  to  Being.  The 
thinking  man,  and  even  the  thoughtless  man,  looking  at  him- 
self, finds  himself  small,  feeble,  miserable.  "  Oh  !  "  exclaims 
Bossuet,  "  how  much  we  are  nothing  !  "  "  Man  becomes  vile 
to  himself,  "  says  St.  Bernard.  "  Man  feels  that  he  is  frail, 
that  liis  life  hangs  but  on  a  thread,  that  he  is  constantly  pass- 
ing away.  The  goods  of  the  Avorld  are  perishable.  The 
fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away.  We  neither  know  wdio 
we  are,  whence  we  come,  whither  we  are  going,  nor  what  sus- 
tains us  during  the  short  period  of  our  lives.  We  are  sus- 
pended between  heaven  and  earth  :  between  two  infinities ; 
we  stand  as  on  quicksands."  All  these  strong  expressions  of 
mystics  and  religious  writers  admirabl}'  express  the  need  we 
stand  in  of  the  absolute,  the  immutable,  the  perfect,— a  need 
felt  more  particularly  by  devout  minds,  but  which  all  men, 
without  exception,  experience  in  some  degree  or  other,  and 
which  they  endeavor  to  satisfy  the  best  they  can.  All  our 
efforts  to  reach  the  absolute  in  science,  in  art,  in  politics  even, 
are  but  the  forms  in  which  this  need  of  the  absolute  manifests 
itself.  The  insatiable  pursuit  of  the  gratification  of  the  pas- 
sions even  is,  also,  under  a  vain  appearance,  the  same  need.  It 
is  this  feeling  of  the  eternal  and  the  infinite,  which  the  greatest 
metaphysicians  all  regarded  as  the  ultimate  foundation  of 
morality.  Plato,  Plotinus,  Malebranche,  Spinoza,  all  enjoin 
upon  us  to  seek  eternal,  in  preference  to  perishable,  goods. 

*  Metaphysics  is  the  science  which  treats  of  what  islwyond  and  above  nature.  We 
call  m€ta;)/!)/«ca!  such  attributes  of  God  by  which  he  surpasses  nature;  as,  for  in- 
stance, infinitude,  immensity  ;  the  moral  attributes,  on  the  contrary,  are  those  which 
have  their  analogies  in  the  human  soul,  such  as  kindness,  wisdom,  etc. 


304  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

This  sentiment,  conscious  of  ever  striving  after  the  substance 
of  good  and  not  its  shadow,  is  the  profoundest,  nearest,  and 
dearest  element  of  religious  sentiment. 

2.  Thus  much  in  regard  to  the  metaphysical  element  of 
religion  :  next  comes  the  moral  element.  God  does  not  only 
appear  to  the  human  soul  as  a  being  infinite,  inexhaustible, 
eternal.  The  soul  wants  him  nearer,  and  in  her  respectful 
boldness  she  calls  him  Father.  Man  is  not  only  feeble  and 
imperfect ;  he  is  also  a  sinner  and  a  sufferer ;  evil  is  his  con- 
dition. The  frailty  of  our  being  and  its  narrow  limits  are 
already  an  evil ;  but  these  are  the  least  of  evils ;  humanity 
suffers,  furthermore,  from  a  double  evil  far  more  real  and  poig- 
nant :  pain  and  sin.  Against  physical  pain,  suffering,  it  has 
but  the  feeble  resource  of  prudence  ;  against  moral  evil  it  has 
but  one  means  of  defense,  very  weak  also — free-will.  It  would 
seem  that  we  are  the  masters  of  the  universe ;  but  experience 
shows,  on  the  contrary,  that  we  are  the  feeblest  among  its  creat- 
ures ;  often  does  the  will  succumb  ;  and  Kant  liimself,  despite 
his  stoicism,  asks  whether  indeed  a  single  act  of  virtue  has 
ever  been  accomplished  in  the  world.  Life,  on  the  whole, 
notwithstanding  its  grand  aspects  and  its  few  exquisite  and 
sublime  joys,  life  is  bad;  all  ends  badly,  and  death,  which 
puts  an  end  to  all  evils,  is  yet  the  greatest  of  evils.  "  The 
human  soul,"  says  Plato,  "  like  a  bird,  raises  its  eyes  to 
heaven,"  and  calls  for  a  remedy,  a  help,  a  deliverance.  " Deliver 
us  from  evil,"  is  the  cry  of  every  religion.  God  is  the  liber- 
ator and  comforter.  We  love  what  is  good  and  we  do  what 
is  evil ;  we  impatiently  desire  happiness,  and  meet  with  noth- 
ing but  wretchedness.  Such  is  the  contradiction  Pascal 
points  out  with  such  incisive  eloquence.  This  contradiction 
must  be  removed.  Hope  and  trust  in  a  supreme  and  benev- 
olent Being  must  ransom  us  from  pain  and  sin. 

Many  persons  place  the  essence  of  religion  in  the  belief  in 
a  future  life,  or  immortality  of  the  soul.  "Who,  without  the 
hope  of  gaining  ])aradise,  would  think  of  God  ?  But  this  is  a 
contradiction   in    terms,       Paradise^   for  the  true  believer,    is 


RELIGIOUS   MORALITY.  305 

nothing  ;  God,  everything.  If  a  future  life  is  a  necessary  con- 
sequence of  the  divine  justice  and  bounty,  we  need  not  doubt 
its  existence ;  if  not,  we  have  nothing  to  ask  ;  it  does  not 
concern  us.  What  especially  concerns  us  is  to  know  what  we 
ought  to  do  here  below,  and  to  have  the  strength  to  do  it  with. 
"  Life  is  a  meditatioji,  not  of  death,  hid  of  life"  said  Spinoza. 
But  in  order  to  live,  and  live  well,  one  must  believe  in  life, 
must  believe  in  its  healthy  and  holy  significance,  believe 
that  it  is  not  mere  play,  a  mere  mystification,  but  that  it  was 
given  us  by  the  principle  of  good  for  the  success  of  good. 

The  essence  of  religion,  then,  is  a  belief  in  the  goodness  of 
God.  A  German  critic,  Feuerbach,  said  with  great  effect, 
that  religion  consisted  in  divinizing  human  attributes.  Thus: 
God  is  good,  means  according  to  him  :  goodness  is  divine. 
God  is  just,  signifies  :  justice  is  divine.  The  boldness  of 
Christianity,  its  profound,  pathetic  beauty,  its  great  moral 
efficacy  lie  in  the  fact  that  it  has  divinized  our  miseries ;  and 
that,  instead  of  saying,  pain  is  divine,  death  is  divine,  it  has 
said  :  God  has  suffered,  God  has  died.  In  a  word,  according 
to  the  same  author,  God  "  is  the  human  heart  divinized." 
Nothing  could  be  more  true  and  beautiful,  only  in  another 
sense  than  that  in  which  the  author  takes  it.  If  God  himself 
was  not  supreme  goodness,  the  heart  of  man  would  then  con- 
tain something  divine,  and  God  would  not  himself  be  divine  ! 
The  heart  feels  that  it  exceeds  all  things,  but,  in  order  to 
believe  in  itself,  it  must  know  itself  coming  from  a  higher  and 
purer  source  than  it  is  itself. 

"  In  thinking  of  such  a  being  (God),  man  experiences  a  sentiment 
which  is  above  all  a  religious  sentiment.  Every  man,  as  we  come  into 
contact  with  him,  awakens  in  us  a  feeling  of  some  kind,  according  to 
the  qualities  we  perceive  in  him,  and  should  not  He  who  possesses  all 
perfections  excite  in  us  the  strongest  of  feelings  ?  If  we  think  of  the 
infinite  essence  of  God,  if  we  are  thoroughly  impressed  by  his  omnipo- 
tence, if  we  remember  that  the  moral  law  expresses  his  vdW,  and  that  he 
has  attached  to  the  fulfillment  and  violation  of  this  law,  rewards  and 
punishments  which  he  distributes  with  inflexible  justice,  we  must  of 
necessity  experience  before  such  greatness  emotions  of  respect  and  fear. 
If  next  we  come  to  consider  that  this  omnipotent  being  was  pleased  to 


30G  ELEMENTS   OF  MORALS. 

create  us,  we,  whom  ho  had  no  need  of,  and  that  in  creating  us  he 
lieaped  upon  lis  benefits  of  all  kinds,  that  he  has  given  us  this  universe 
to  enjoy  its  ever  renewed  beauties,  that  he  has  given  us  society  that  our 
life  may  become  enlarged  in  that  of  our  fellow-beings,  that  he  has  given 
us  reason  to  think,  a  heart  to  love,  liberty  to  act,  that  same  respect 
and  fear  will  receive  additional  strength  from  a  still  gentler  sentiment, 
namely,  that  of  love.  Love,  when  directed  toward  feeble  and  circum- 
scribed beings,  inspires  us  with  the  desire  to  do  them  good  :  but,  in 
itself,  love  does  not  especially  consider  the  advantage  of  the  person 
beloved  :  we  love  a  thing,  good  or  beautiful,  simply  because  it  is  good 
or  beautiful,  and  without  thought  of  benefiting  it ;  or  benefiting  our- 
selves. How  much  more  so  when  this  love  is  turned  to  God,  as  a  pure 
homage  to  his  perfections  ;  when  it  is  the  natural  outpouring  of  the 
soul  toward  a  being  infinitely  adorable. 

"Adoration  consists  in  respect  and  love.  If  man,  however,  sees  in 
God  the  omnipotent  master  of  heaven  and  earth  only,  the  source  of  all 
justice  and  the  avenger  of  all  wrong,  he  will,  in  his  weakness,  be 
crushed  by  the  overwlielndng  weight  of  God's  greatness  :  he  will  be 
living  a  life  of  perpetual  fear,  from  the  uncertainty  of  the  judgment  of 
God  ;  he  will  conceive  for  this  world  and  life,  always  so  full  of  misery, 
nothing  but  hatred.  Read  Pascal's  Thoughts.  Pascal,  in  his  superb 
humility,  forgets  two  things  :  the  dignity  of  man  and  the  goodness  of 
God.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  man  only  sees  in  God  a  kind  and  indulgent 
Father,  he  will  run  into  a  chimerical  mysticism.  In  substituting  love 
for  fear,  there  is  danger  of  losing  the  awe  which  we  should  have  for  him. 
God  is  then  no  longer  a  master,  scarcely  a  father  even ;  for  the  idea  of 
father  carries  with  it,  in  a  certain  degree,  that  of  a  respectful  fear  :  he  is 
nothing  more  than  a  friend.  True  adoration  does  not  sever  love  from 
respect :  it  is  respect  animated  by  love. 

"  Adoration  is  a  universal  sentiment  ;  it  differs  in  degrees  according  to 
the  differences  in  human  nature  ;  it  takes  the  greatest  variety  of  forms  ; 
it  often  does  not  even  know  itself;  sometimes  it  betrays  itself  by  a  sud- 
den exclamation,  a  cry  from  the  heart  over  the  grand  scenes  of  nature 
and  life  ;  sometimes  it  rises  silently  in  the  deeply-moved  and  dumb- 
stricken  soul ;  it  may  in  its  expression  mistake  its  aim  ;  but  funda- 
mentally it  is  always  the  same.  It  is  a  spontaneous  and  irresistible 
yearning  of  the  soul,  which  reason  must  declare  just  and  legitimate. 
What  more  just,  in  fact,  than  to  fear  the  judgments  of  Him  who  is  holi- 
ness itself,  who  knows  our  actions  and  our  intentions,  and  who  will 
judge  them  as  it  becomes  supreme  justice  ?  What  more  just,  also,  than 
to  love  perfect  goodness  and  tlie  source  of  all  love  ?  Adoration  is  first 
a  natural  sentiment :  reason  makes  of  it  a  duty."  * 

*  V.  Cousin,  Lc  Vmi,  le  Ecau  el  le  Blen,  xvi«  leqon. 


RELIGIOUS  MORALITY.  307 

These  two  sentiments,  love  and  respect,  may,  inasmuch  as 
they  relate  to  God — that  is  to  say,  to  an  infinite  being — be  re- 
solved into  one,  which  we  call  veneration.  Veneration  is  the 
respect  mixed  with  love  which  we  feel  for  our  aged  parents, 
for  some  exalted  virtue,  for  devotion  to  a  suffering  country  ; 
but  it  is  only  through  extension  Ave  so  understand  it :  its  true 
object,  its  proper  domain,  is  the  divinity;  *  and  if  there  are 
other  objects  to  he  revered  and  venerated,  it  is  because  we 
detect  in  them  something  august  and  sacred. 

It  will,  perhaps,  be  said  that  sentiments  cannot  be  erected 
into  duties  :  for  how  can  I  force  myself  to  feel  what  I  do  not 
feel  ?     Acts  can  be  commanded,  but  not  sentiments. 

This  is  true  ;  but  the  acts,  in  the  first  place,  are  nothing 
without  the  sentiments,  and  if  piety  is  not  already  in  the 
heart,  the  most  pious  works  will  have  no  virtue.  Moreover, 
if  it  be  true  that  it  is  impossible  to  generate,  either  in  one's 
self  or  in  others,  sentiments,  the  germs  of  which  do  not  exist 
in  human  nature,  it  is  not  true  that  sentiments  in  conformity 
with  this  nature,  and  which,  whilst  we  believe  them  completely 
absent,  may  only  be  dormant,  could  not  be  excited,  awakened, 
cultivated,  and  developed.  Noav,  it  is  enough  to  think  of 
divine  greatness,  to  experience  a  feeling  of  fear  and  respect ; 
it  is  enough  to  think  of  divine  perfection,  to  love  this  perfec- 
tion, and  seek  to  come  nearer  to  it.  Duty  here  consists,  then, 
in  thinking  of  God,  in  giving  this  great  thought  a  part  of  our 
life,  in  uniting  it  with  all  the  acts  of  that  life :  these  senti- 
ments Avill,  then,  be  generated  and  will  expand  of  themselves. 

169.  Piety  united  with  all  the  acts  of  life  :  indirect  duties 
toward  God. — We  have  just  said  that  the  idea  of  God  can 
be  united  with  all  the  acts  of  life.  Every  action  being  the 
fulfillment  of  the  will  of  Providence,  can  be  both  moral  and 
religious.  He  icho  worlis,  prays,  says  the  proverb;  a  life  which 
strives  to  preserve  itself  pure  and  virtuous,  is  a  continuous 

*  See  DKtionnaire  de  V Academie  fmn(aise  {7'  edition,  1S7S) :  "  VeMration,  respect 
for  holy  things.  It  is  also  said  of  the  respectful  esteem  in  which  certain  persons 
are  held." 


308  ELEMENTS    OF   MOEALS. 

prayer.    In  this  sense,  all  our  duties  are  indirect  duties  toward 
God. 

1.  OhediencQ  to  God,  manifested  by  obedience  to  moral  law. 
I  can  obey  the  moral  law  in  two  ways  :  on  the  one  hand,  be- 
cause it  is  a  duty,  whatever  besides  may  be  the  reason  of  this 
duty,  and  next  because  this  duty  is  in  unison  with  universal 
order,  which  is  the  work  of  divine  wisdom.  To  fulfill  one's 
duty  is,  then,  to  co-operate  in  some  respect  with  God  in  the 
achievement  of  this  order.  It  is  thus  that  in  ancient  religions, 
agriculture  was  regarded  a  religious  act,  because  man  took 
therein  the  part  of  the  creator. 

2.  Resigncdion  to  the  tvill  of  Providence. — Patience  is  un- 
questionably a  duty  in  itself.  There  is  a  lack  of  dignity  in 
rebelling  against  evils  which  cannot  be  prevented  ;  but  this  is 
as  yet  a  wholly  negative  virtue.  It  becomes  a  religious  virtue 
if  we  regard  the  ills  of  life  in  the  light  of  trials,  and  as  the 
condition  of  a  higher  good,  and  expect  to  voluntarily  submit 
to  them  as  being  in  the  plan  of  Providence.  It  is  thus  the 
Pythagoreans  forbade  suicide,  saying  that  it  was  leaving  the 
post  in  Avhich  God  had  placed  us. 

It  would,  moreover,  be  interpreting  this  duty  of  resigna- 
tion very  falsely  to  think  that  it  commands  us  to  bear  trouble 
and  make  no  effort  to  escape  it.  This  were  confounding  Provi- 
dence with  fatalism.  On  the  contrary,  God,  having  given  us 
free  will,  not  only  permits  us  thereby,  but  even  positively  en- 
joins upon  us,  to  use  it  in  bettering  our  condition. 

3.  Love  of  God  conjoined  with  the  loce  of  man. — There  is 
no  real  love  of  God  without  love  of  neighbor ;  it  is  a  false 
piety  which  thinks  itself  obliged  to  sacrifice  the  love  of  men 
to  the  love  of  God  :  thence  come  fanaticism,  intolerance,  per- 
secidion.  To  believe  these  to  be  religious  virtues  is  impious. 
"We  cannot  please  God  by  acts  of  hatred  and  cruelty.  Thus 
is  the  love  of  God  nothing  without  the  love  of  men. 

P>ut  it  can  also  l>e  said  that  the  love  of  men  is  incomplete 
if  it  does  not  get  its  sustenance  from  a  higher  source,  which  is 
tlie  love  of  God.      We  can,  in  fact,  love   men  in   tvro   wavs : 


RELIGIOUS    MORALITY.  309 

first,  because  they  arc  men,  because  they  are  like  us,  because 
there  is  between  them  and  us  a  natural  bond  of  sympathy. 
But  we  can  also  love  them  because  they  are,  like  ourselves, 
members  of  the  universe  of  Avhich  God  is  the  sovereign  ruler, 
members  of  a  family  of  which  God  is  the  father,  because,  like 
ourselves,  they  reflect  some  of  the  attributes  of  supreme  per- 
fection, because  they  ought,  like  us,  to  strive  after  all  per- 
fection. We  can  then  love  men  religiously,  love  them  in 
God  in  some  respect.  Thus  conversely  to  love  men  will  be 
loving  God. 

170.  The  idea  of  God  in  morals. — We  have,  in  a  former 
course  of  lectures,  seen  how  the  moral  law  is  related  to  God : 
this  law  is  certainly  not  dependent  on  his  will  alone,  but  on 
his  holiness  and  supreme  perfection ;  and  it  is  still  further 
related  to  him  as  to  a  supreme  sanction.  We  have  to  consider 
here  only  the  practical  eficacy  of  the  idea  of  God — that  is  to 
say,  the  additional  strength  moral  belief  receives  by  a  belief 
in  absolute  justice  and  holiness.  It  is  on  this  condition  and 
from  this  standpoint  that  Kant  has  called  the  existence  of 
God  the  postulate  *  of  the  moral  law.  The  moral  law,  in  fact, 
supposes  the  world  able  to  conform  to  this  law  ;  but  how  are 
we  to  believe  in  such  a  possibility  if  this  world  were  the  eflect 
of  a  blind  and  indifferent  necessity  1  "  Since  it  is  our  duty," 
says  Kant,  "  to  work  toward  the  realization  of  the  supreme 
good,  it  is  not  only  a  right,  but  a  necessity  flowing  from  this 
duty,  to  suppose  the  possibility  of  this  supreme  good,  which 
good  is  only  possible  on  the  condition  of  God's  existence!.  •  • 
— "Suppose,  for  example,"  he  says  elsewhere,  "an  honest  man 
like  Spinoza,  firmly  convinced  that  there  is  no  God  and  no 
future  life.  He  will,  without  doubt,  fulfill  disinterestedly  the 
duty  that  holy  law  imposes  on  his  activity ;  but  his  eff"orts 
will  be  limited.  If  here  and  there  he  finds  in  nature  ac- 
cidental co-operation,  he  can  never  expect  of  this  co-operation 

*  A  postulate  is  a  truth  which,  although  it  cannot  be  rigorously  demonstrated 
should,  nevertheless,  by  reason  of  the  neces.sity  of  its  consequences,  be  practically 
admitted. 

t  Kant,  Critiqw  d"  la,  rahon  pratiqiu;.  II.,  ii.     Trad,  dc  J.  Banii.  p.  3S4. 


310  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

to  be  in  perfect  and  constant  accordance  with  the  end  he  feels 
himself  obliged  to  pursue.  Though  honest,  peaceful,  benev- 
olent himself,  he  Avill  always  he  surrounded  by  fraud,  vio- 
lence, envy ;  in  vain  do  the  good  people  he  meets  deserve  to 
he  happy ;  nature  has  no  regard  for  their  goodness,  and  ex- 
poses them,  like  all  the  rest  of  earth's  animals,  to  disease  and 
misery,  to  a  premature  death,  until  one  vast  tomb — the  gidf 
of  blind  matter  from  which  they  issued — swallows  them  all 
up  again.  Thus  would  this  righteous  man  be  obliged  to  give 
up  as  absolutely  impossible  the  end  which  the  law  imposed 
on  him  ;  or,  if  he  wished  to  remain  true  to  the  inner  voice  of 
his  moral  destiny,  he  will,  from  a  practical  point  of  view,  be 
obliged  to  recognize  the  existence  of  a  moral  cause  in  the 
world,  namely,  God."  Thus,  according  to  Kant,  is  religion, 
namely,  the  belief  in  the  existence  of  God,  required,  not  as  a 
theoretical  basis  for  morality,  but  as  a  practical  basis.  "  The 
righteous  man  can  say  :  I  mil  that  there  be  a  God."  * 

It  may  be  objected  that  moral  law  can  dispense  with  out- 
ward success ;  that  it  does  not  appear  to  be  essential  to  the 
idea  of  that  law ;  that  the  wise,  as  far  as  their  own  happi- 
ness is  concerned,  need  not  consider  it,  can  ignore  it.  But 
what  they  are  obliged  to  consider,  and  are  not  allowed  to  ig- 
nore, is  the  happiness  of  others,  and  what  is  generally  under- 
stood by  progress — the  possible  improvement  of  the  race.  If, 
as  some  pessimistic  and  misanthropic  philosophers  seem  to 
think,  men  will  never  he  anything  more  than  monkeys  or 
tigers  given  to  the  lowest  and  most  ferocious  instincts,  do  you 
believe  that  any  man,  be  he  ever  so  well  endowed  morally, 
ever  so  deejily  convinced  of  the  obligation  of  the  law  of  duty, 
could,  if  he  believed  such  a  thing,  be  able  to  continue  doing 
his  duty,  a  duty  followed  by  no  appreciable  or  perceptible 
results  1  The  tirst  condition  for  becoming  or  remaining  vir- 
tuous, is  to  believe  in  virtue.  But  to  believe  in  virtue  means 
to  believe  that  virtue  is  a  fact,  that  it  exists  in  the  world,  that 
it  can  do  it  good ;  in  other  words,  it  is  to  believe  that  the 

*  Critique  de  la  raison  pratique ;  trad,  fr.,  p.  363. 


RELIGIOUS   MOEALITY.  311 

human  race  was  created  for  good ;  tJiat  nature  is  capable  of 
being  transformed  according  to  the  law  of  gootl ;  it  is,  in 
short,  to  believe  that  the  univei'se  obeys  a  principle  of  good, 
and  not  a  principle  of  evil — an  Oromazes,  not  an  Ahrimanes. 
As  to  believing  in  an  indifferent  being,  one  that  were  neither 
good  nor  evil,  we  should  not  be  any  better  off;  it  would 
leave  us  just  as  uncertain  in  regard  to  the  possible  success 
of  our  efforts,  and  just  as  doubtful  about  the  worth  of  our 
moral  beliefs. 

In  one  word,  and  to  conclude,  if  God  Avere  an  illusion,  why 
could  not  virtue  be  an  illusion  also  1  In  order  that  I  may  be- 
lieve in  the  dignity  and  excellence  of  my  soul  and  that  of 
other  men,  I  must  believe  in  a  supreme  principle  of  dignity 
and  excellence.  Nothing  comes  from  nothing.  If  there  is 
no  bemg  to  love  me  and  my  fellow-men,  why  should  I  be  held 
to  love  them  1  If  the  world  is  not  good,  if  it  was  not  created 
for  good,  if  good  is  not  its  origin  and  end,  what  have  I  to  do 
here  in  this  world,  and  what  care  I  for  that  swarm  of  ants  of 
which  I  am  a  part  1  Let  them  get  along  as  well  as  they  can  ! 
"Why  should  I  take-so  much  trouble  to  so  little  purpose  1  Take 
any  intelligent  man,  a  friend  of  civil  and  poHtical  liberty,  and 
ready  to  suffer  anything  to  procure  these  to  his  country,  as 
long  as  he  believes  th^  tiling  possible,  both  wisdom  and  virtue 
will  command  liim  to  devote  himself  Avholly  to  it.  But  let 
experience  prove  to  him  that  it  is  a  chimera,  that  his  fellow- 
citizens  are  either  too  great  cowards  or  too  vicious  to  be 
worthy  and  capable  of  the  good  he  wishes  to  secure  to  them  ; 
suppose  he  sees  all  around  him  nothing  but  cupidity,  servility, 
unbridled  and  abominable  passions ;  suppose,  finally,  that  he 
becomes  convinced  that  liberty  among  men,  or  at  least  among 
the  people  he  lives  Avith,  is  an  illusion,  do  you  think  he  could, 
do  you  even  think  he  should,  continue  Avasting  his  faculties 
in  an  impossible  enterprise  1  Once  more,  I  can  forget  myself, 
and  I  ought ;  and  I  should  leave  to  internal  justice  or  divine 
goodness  the  care  to  watch  over  my  destinies  ;  but  that  which 
I  cannot  forget,  that  which  cannot  leave  me  indifferent,  is  the 


313  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

reign  of  justice  on  earth.  I  must  be  able  to  say :  Let  Thy 
Mngdom  come  !  How  can  I  co-operate  with  the  JJivine  Idea 
if  there  is  no  God,  who,  in  creating  us  for  the  furthering  of 
his  kingdom,  made  it,  at  the  same  time,  possible  for  us  1  And 
how  am  I  to  believe  that  out  of  that  great  void  whereto  athe- 
ism reduces  us,  there  can  come  a  reign  of  wills  holy  and  just, 
Ijound  to  each  other  by  the  laws  of  respect  and  love  ?  Kant, 
the  great  stoic,  without  borrowing  from  theology,  has  more 
strongly  than  any  other,  described  the  necessity  of  this  reign 
of  law ;  but  he  fully  understood  that  this  abstract  and  ideal 
order  of  things  would  remain  but  a  pure  conception,  if  there 
Avere  not  conjoined  Avith  it  what  he  justly  calls  "  the  prac- 
tical, the  moral  faith  "  in  the  existence  of  God. 

171.  Religious  rights. — Religious  duties  imply  religious 
rights:  for  if  it  is  a  duty  to  honor  the  Creator,  it  is  also  a 
right.  Even  those  who  do  not  admit  obligations  toward  God, 
ought  to  respect  in  those  who  do  admit  them,  their  liberty 
to  do  so.  The  right  of  having  a  religion,  and  practicing  it, 
is  what  is  called  liberty  of  conscience. 

"  The  first  right  I  claim,"  says  an  eloquent  writer,  "  is  the 
right  of  adopting  a  free  belief  touching  the  nature  of  God,  my 
duties,  my  future  ;  it  is  a  wholly  interior  right,  which  governs 
the  relations  of  my  will  or  conscience  alone.  It  is  the  liberty 
of  conscience  in  its  essence,  its  first  act,  its  indispensable  basis. 
It  is  the  liberty  to  believe,  o'c  faith.  Free  in  the  innermost  of 
my  thought,  shall  I  be  confined  to  a  silent  worship  1  Shall  I 
not  be  allowed  to  express  what  I  think  ?  Faith  is  communi- 
cative, and  will  make  itself  felt  by  others.  I  cannot  control 
its  expressing  itself  without  doing  it  violence,  without  offend- 
ing God,  without  rendering  myself  guilty  of  ingratitude.  I 
cannot,  moreover,  worship  a  God  that  is  not  my  God.  The 
freedom  of  belief,  without  the  freedom  of  prayer — that  is  to 
say,  without  free  worship — is  only  a  delusion. 

"  Now,  is  prayer  sufficient  ?  Does  this  solitary  expression  of 
my  faith,  my  love,  my  ignorance,  suffice  the  wants  of  my 
licart  and  my  duties  toward  God?    Yes,  if  man  were  made  to 


RELIGIOUS   MORALITY.  313 

live  alone  ;  but  not  if  he  has  brethren.  I  am  a  social  being  ; 
1  have  duties  toward  society  as  well  as  toward  God;  my 
creed  commands  nie  to  teach  as  well  as  to  pray.  My  voice 
must  be  heard,  and  I  must,  following  my  destiny,  and  ac- 
cording to  the  measure  of  my  powers,  carry  along  with  me  all 
those  who  are  inclined  to  folloAV  me.  This  is  the  liberty  of 
promulgating  one's  creed,  or,  in  other  words,  the  liberty  of 
propagandism. 

"  Worship,  then,  means  to  believe,  to  pray,  to  teach.  But, 
can  I  consider  myself  a  free  believer,  if  praying  in  public  be 
denied  me ;  if  by  praying,  and  teaching,  and  confessing  my 
doctrine,  I  risk  the  loss  of  my  rights  as  man  and  citizen  ? 
There  are  other  means  for  checking  public  worship  and 
apostleship  than  burning  at  the  stake.  It  is  obvious  that,  in 
order  no  injustice  be  done  to  my  particular  creed,  I  should 
risk  nothing  by  it ;  that  I  be  not  deprived  of  any  of  my  civil 
or  political  rights.  AW  this  is  included  in  the  term  liberty  of 
conscience :  it  is  at  the  same  time  the  right  to  believe,  the 
right  to  pray,  and  the  right  to  exercise  this  triple  liberty  with- 
out having  to  suffer  any  diminution  in  one's  dignity  as  man 
and  citizen."  * 

172.  Religious  society.  —  Religious  duties  and  rights 
give  rise  to  what  may  be  called  religious  society.  Fenelon 
has  magnificently  described  the  ideal  religious  society  where 
all  would  form  but  one  family  united  by  the  love  of  God  and 
men. 

"Do  we  not  see,"  he  says,  "that  the  external  worship  follows 
necessarily  the  internal  worship  of  love  ?  Give  me  a  society  of  men 
who,  while  on  earth,  would  look  upon  each  other  as  members  of  one 
and  the  same  family,  whose  Father  is  in  heaven  ;  give  me  men  whose 
life  was  sunk  in  this  love  for  their  heavenly  Father,  men  who  loved 
their  fellow-men  and  themselves  only  through  love  for  Him  ;  who  were 
but  one  heart,  one  soul  :  will  not  in  so  godly  a  society  the  mouth  always 
speak  from  the  abundance  of  the  heart  ?     They  will  sing  the  praises  of 

*  Jules  Simon,  La  Liberti  de  Conxciencc,  A"  legoii  (Paris,  1S57).— We  have  borrowed 
some  few  passages  of  another  book  of  the  same  autlior,  La  Liberie  (VoL  ii.,  4°,  part  1, 
ch.  1). 

U 


314  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

the  Most  High,  the  Most  Good  spontaneously  ;  they  will  bless  Him  for 
all  His  bounties.  They  Avill  not  be  content  to  love  Him  merely,  they 
will  proclaim  this  love  to  all  the  nations  of  the  world  ;  they  will  wish 
to  correct  and  admonish  their  brethren  when  they  see  them  tempted 
through  pride  and  low  passions  to  forsake  the  Well-Beloved.  They 
will  lament  the  least  cooling  of  that  love.  They  will  cro.=;s  the  seas,  go 
to  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  to  teach  the  benighted  nations  who 
have  forgotten  His  greatness  the  knowledge  and  love  of  theu'  common 
Father.  What  do  you  call  external  worship  if  this  be  not  it  ?  God 
then  would  be  all  in  all;  He  would  be  the  universal  king,  father, 
friend  ;  He  would  be  the  living  law  of  all  hearts.  Truly,  if  a  mortal 
king  or  head  of  a  family  \vins  by  his  wisdom  the  esteem  and  confidence 
of  his  children,  if  we  see  them  at  all  times  pay  him  the  honors  due 
him,  need  we  ask  wherein  consists  his  service,  or  whether  any  is  due 
him?  All  that  is  done  in  his  honor,  in  obedience  to  him,  in  recogni- 
tion of  his  bounties,  is  a  continuous  worship,  obvious  to  all  eyes. 
What  would  it  be  then  if  men  were  possessed  with  the  love  of  God  ! 
Their  society  would  be  in  a  state  of  continuous  worship,  like  that  de- 
scribed to  us  of  the  blessed  in  heaven."  * 

The  great  ancient  moralist,  Epictetus,  has  as  superbly  as 
Fenelon  expressed  the  same  sentiments  : 

"If  we  had  any  nnderstanding, "  he  says,  "ought  we  not,  both  in 
public  and  in  private,  incessantly  to  sing  and  praise  the  Deity,  and  re- 
hearse His  benefits  ?  Ought  we  not,  whether  we  dig,  or  plough,  or  eat, 
to  sing  this  hymn  to  God  ?  Great  is  God,  who  has  supplied  us  with 
these  instruments  to  till  the  ground  ;  gi'eat  is  God,  who  has  given  us 
hands  and  organs  of  digestion  ;  who  has  given  us  to  grow  insensibly,  to 
breathe  in  sleep.  These  things  we  ought  forever  to  celebrate,  tnd  to 
make  it  the  theme  of  the  greatest  and  divinest  hymn  that  He  has  given 
us  the  power  to  appreciate  these  gifts,  and  to  use  them  well.  But  be- 
cause the  most  of  you  are  blind  and  insensible  there  must  be  some 
one  to  fill  this  station,  and  lead  in  behalf  of  all  men  the  hjinn  to 
God  ;  for  what  else  can  I  do,  a  lame  old  man,  but  sing  hymns  to 
God  ?  Were  I  a  nightingale,  I  would  act  the  part  of  a  nightingale  ; 
were  I  a  swan,  the  part  of  a  swan.  But  since  I  am  a  reasonable 
creature  it  is  my  duty  to  praise  God.  This  is  ray  business.  I  do 
it.  Nor  will  I  ever  desert  this  post,  so  long  as  it  is  permitted  me  ; 
and  I  call  on  you  to  join  in  the  same  song."  t 

•  FcnclDn.    Lellns  sur  la  metaphysique  et  la  religion.    Letter  II.,  ch.  i. 
t  Tlic  works  of  Epictetus.    T.  W.  Iligginson's  transl.,  I.,  xvL 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MORAL  MEDICIITE  AND  GYMNASTICS. 


SUMMARY. 

Means  and  end. — Moral  science  should  not  only  point  out  the  aid  • 
it  should  also  indicate  the  means  of  attaining  that  end. 

There  is,  as  of  the  body,  a  culture  of  the  soul  :  as,  in  medicine,  we 
distinguish  between  tcvijiermnents,  diseases  and  their  treatments,  so  do 
we  distinguish  in  morals,  characiers,  jmssians,  and  remedies. 
Of  character. — Character  as  compared  with  temperament ;   four  prin- 
cipal tyj)es. 

Character  at  different  ages :  childhood,  youth,  manhood,  and  old  age. 
Passions. — Passions  may  in  one  re-spect  be  considered  as  nalural  affec- 
tions;   but  in  a  moral  f)oint  of  view  they  should   be  considered  as 
diseases. 

The  law  of  passions  considered  from  this  last  standpoint.     Enumer- 
ation and  analysis  of  these  various  passions. 
Culture  of  the  soul,  or  moral  treatment. — On  the  government  of 
passions. — Bossuet's  advice  :  not  directly  to  combat  the  passions,  but 
to  turn  them  off  into  other  channels. 

Of  the  formation  of  character. —Rules  of  Malebranche  :  1,  acts 
produce  habits,  and  habits  produce  acts  ;  2,  one  can  always  act  against 
a  ruling  habit. 

How  is  one  habit  to  be  substituted  for  another  ? — Aristotle's  rule  : 
To  go  from  one  extreme  to  the  other. — Bacon's  rules  :  1,  to  proceed 
by  degrees  ;  2,  to  choose  for  a  new  virtue  two  kinds  of  opiwrtunities  : 
the  first  when  one  is  best  dis^wsed,  the  second  when  one  is  least  so  ; 
3,  not  to  trust  too  much  to  one's  conversion  and  distrust  opportuni- 
ties. 

Benjamin  Franklin's  Ahnanac. — Other  practices. — Kant's  moral 
catechism. 

We  have  done  with  practical  morals,  the  morals,  namely, 
which  liave  for  their  object  the  setting  forth  of  man's  duties  and 


316  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

the  principal  applications  of  the  moral  law.  The  second  part  of 
this  course  of  study  shall  be  devoted  to  the  theory  of  morals, 
which  has  for  its  object  the  elucidation  of  principles.  But  to 
pass  from  the  one  to  the  other,  it  seemed  to  us  proper,  by  way 
of  conclusion,  to  introduce  here  an  order  of  researches  which 
belongs  to  both  practical  and  theoretical  morals,  the  study, 
namely,  of  the  means  man  has  at  his  disposal  in  his  moral 
self-perfection,  either  by  curing  himself  of  vice,  or  in  advanc- 
ing in  virtue :  this  is  what  we  call  moral  medicine  and  gym- 
nastics. 

Bacon  justly  remarks  that  most  moralists  are  like  writing- 
masters  who  lay  fine  copies  before  their  pupils,  but  tell  them 
nothing  of  the  manner  of  using  the  pen  and  tracing  charac- 
ters. Thus  do  the  philosophers  set  before  us  very  fine  and 
magnificent  models,  very  faithful  and  noble  pictures  of  good- 
ness and  virtue,  of  duties,  of  happiness  ;  but  they  teach  us 
nothing  about  the  means  of  attaining  to  such  perfection. 
They  make  us  acquainted  with  the  end,  and  not  with  the  road 
that  leads  to  it.* 

Then,  presenting  us  himself  a  sketch  of  that  portion  of  mo- 
rality which  does  not  confine  itself  to  precepts  only,  but  to 
instructions  also,  and  which  he  calls  the  Georgics  of  the  soul 
(science  of  the  culture  and  the  soul),  he  tells  us  that  it  should 
be  like  medicine  which  considers  first  the  constitution  of  the 
patient,  then  the  disease,  then  the  treatment.  The  same  in 
regard  to  the  sold. :  there  are  moral  temperaments  as  there  are 
physical  temperaments  :  these  are  the  characters ;  moral  dis- 
eases as  there  are  physical  diseases ;  these  are  the  passions  ; 
and  finally  there  is  a  moral  treatment  as  there  is  a  physical 
treatment,  and  it  is  the  treatment  of  morality  to  indicate  this 
treatment.  Now,  one  cannot  treat  a  disease  without  knowing 
it  and  without  being  acquainted  Avith  the  temperament  and 
constitution  of  the  patient.  "  A  coat  cannot  be  fitted  on 
a  body  without  the  tailor's  taking  first  the  measure  of  him  for 
whom  he  makes  it."     Hence,  it  follows  that  before  deciding 

*  De  Augmentis  Scientiarum,  III.,  i.  and  lii. 


MORAL   MEDICIXE    AXD    GYMNASTICS.  317 

on  a  remedy,  one  must  acquaint  himself  with  the  characters 
and  passions. 

173.  Of  character. — The  study  of  character  is  hardly  sus^ 
ceptible  of  a  methodical  classification.  Passions,  manners, 
habits  are  so  complicated  and  so  intermixed  in  individuals  that 
they  afford  scarcely  a  chance  to  faithfully  describe  them,  and 
this  subject,  though  very  fertile,  is  more  of  the  province  of 
literature  than  of  science.  Theophrastus  among  the  ancients, 
and  La  Bruyere  among  the  moderns,  have  excelled  in  this 
kind  of  description  ;  but  it  would  be  very  difficult  to  analyze 
their  works,  as  they  have  nothing  didactic :  they  are  better 
suited  for  reading.  Theophrastus  describes  dissemblers,  flat- 
terers, intruders,  rustics,  parasites,  babblers,  the  superstitious, 
misers,  the  proud,  slanderers,  etc.  All  these  are  unquestion- 
ably principal  types  of  human  character,  but  they  cannot  be 
strictly  brought  down  to  a  few  elementary  types.  La  Bruyere 
is  stiU  further  removed ;  he  does  not  only  treat  character,  but 
manners  also ;  he  describes  individuals  rather  than  men  in 
general,  or  it  is  always  in  the  individual  that  he  sees  the  man. 
Hence  the  charm  and  piquancy  of  his  pictures  ;  but  moral  sci- 
ence finds  scarcely  anything  to  borrow  from  him. 

Kant  tried  to  give  a  theory  of  character,  and  he  started 
with  the  same  idea  as  Bacon,  namely,  the  analogy  between 
characters  and  temperaments;  thus  did  he  confine  himself  to 
taking  up  agaiia  the  old  physiological  theory  of  temperaments 
and  apply  it  to  the  moral  man.  He  distinguishes  two  kinds 
of  temperaments  :  temperaments  of  sentiment,  and  tempera- 
ments of  activity ;  and  in  each  of  these  two  kinds,  two 
degrees  or  two  difterent  shades :  exaltation  or  abatement. 
Hence,  four  difterent  kinds  of  temperaments  :  the  sanguine 
and  the  melancholy  (temperament  of  sentiment),  the  choleric 
and  plilegmatic  (temperament  of  activity).  Kant  describes 
these  four  temperaments  or  characters  as  follows  :* 

"  The  sanguine  disposition  may  be  recognized  by  the  fol- 
lowing indications  :    The  sanguine  man  is  free  from   care  and 

*  Kant,  AtUhropologie.    Trad,  franc,  de  Tissot,  p.  27. 


318  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

of  good  hope ;  he  gives  to  things  at  one  moment  undue  im- 
portance ;  at  another,  he  can  no  longer  think  of  them.  He  is 
splendid  in  his  promises,  but  does  not  keep  them,  because  he 
has  not  sufficiently  reflected  whether  he  will  be  able  to  keep 
them  or  not.  He  is  well  enough  disposed  to  help  others,  but  is 
a  poor  debtor  and  always  asks  for  delays.  He  is  good  company, 
cheerful,  lively,  takes  things  easily,  and  is  everybody's  friend. 
He  is  not  usually  a  bad  person,  but  a  confirmed  sinner,  hard 
to  convert,  and  Avho,  though  he  will  repent,  will  never  allow 
this  repentance  to  turn  into  grief :  it  is  soon  again  forgotten. 
He  is  easily  tired  by  work  ;  yet  is  he  constantly  occupied, 
and  that,  for  the  reason  that  his  work  being  but  play,  it 
proves  a  change  which  suits  him,  as  perseverance  is  not  in  his 
nature. 

"  The  melancholy  man  gives  to  everything  concerning  him  a 
vast  importance ;  the  least  trifles  give  him  anxiety,  and  his 
whole  attention  is  fixed  upon  the  difficulties  of  things.  Con- 
trary to  the  sanguine,  always  hopeful  of  success,  but  a  super- 
ficial thinker,  the  melancholy  is  a  profound  thinker.  He 
is  not  hasty  in  his  promises  because  he  intends  keeping 
them,  and  he  considers  carefully  whether  he  Avill  be  able  to 
do  so.  He  distrusts  and  takes  thought  of  things  wliich  the 
sanguine  passes  carelessly  by  ;  he  is  no  philanthropist,  for  the 
reason  that  he  who  denies  himself  pleasure  is  rarely  inclined 
to  wish  it  to  others. 

"The  choleric  man  is  easily  excited  and  as  easily  appeased  • 
lie  flares  up  like  a  straw  fire  ;  but  submission  soon  softens  him 
down;  he  is  then  irritable  without  hatred,  and  loves  him  who 
readily  gives  up  to  him,  all  the  more  ardently.  He  is  prompt 
in  his  actions,  but  his  activity  does  not  last  long  ;  he  is  n^er 
idle,  yet  not  industrious.  His  ruling  passion  is  honors  ;  he 
likes  to  meddle  with  public  aflairs,  to  hear  himself  praised  ; 
he  is  for  show  and  ceremonial.  He  is  fond  of  playing  the 
])art  of  a  protector  and  to  appear  generous;  but  not  from  a  feel- 
ing of  affection,  but  of  pride,  for  he  loves  himself  much  more 
than  he  loves  others.     He  is  passionately  given  to  money 


MOEAL    MEDICINE     VXD    GYMNASTICS.  319 

making ;  in  society  he  is  a  ceremonious  courtier,  stiff,  and  ill 
at  ease,  and  ready  to  accept  any  flatterer  to  serve  him  as  a 
shield  ;  in  a  word,  the  choleric  temperament  is  the  least  happy 
of  all  because  it  is  the  one  that  meets  with  most  opposition. 
"  The  phlegmatic  temper.  Phlegm  means  absence  of  emo- 
tion. The  phlegmatic  man  to  whom  nature  has  given  a  cer- 
tain quantum  of  reason,  resembles  the  man  who  acts  on  prin- 
ciple, although  he  owes  this  disposition  to  instinct  only.  His 
happy  temperament  stands  to  him  in  lieu  of  wisdom,  and 
often  in  ordinary  life  he  is  called  a  philosopher.  Sometimes 
even  he  is  thought  cunning,  because  all  abuse  launched  at 
him  bounces  back  again,  as  a  ball  from  a  sack  of  avooI.  He 
makes  a  pretty  good  husband,  and,  whilst  pretending  to  do 
every  one's  will,  he  governs  both  wife  and  servants  as  he 
likes,  for  he  knows  how  to  bring  their  wishes  in  agreement 
with  his  own  indomitable  but  thoughtful  will." 

There  are  then,  according  to  Kant,  four  essentially  distinct 
characters  :  the  sanguine,  playful,  kindly,  superficial ;  the  mel- 
ancholy, profound,  sad,  egotistical ;  the  choleric,  ardent,  pas- 
sionate, ambitious,  covetous ;  the  phlegmatic,  cold,  moderate, 
inflexible. 

Kant  denies  that  these  four  kinds  of  temperaments  can 
combine  with  each  other ;  "  there  are  but  four  in  all,"  he 
says,  "  and  each  of  them  is  complete  in  itself."  It  seems  to 
us,  on  the  contrary,  that  experience  shows  that  no  one  of  these 
characters  exists  separately  in  an  absolute  manner  ;  there  is 
always  to  some  degree  a  mixture,  and  different  men  are  gener- 
ally distinguished  by  the  leading  feature  ui  their  character. 

We  must,  however,  make  a  distinction  between  disjwsition 
and  character.  To  be  of  such  or  such  a  disposition  is  not 
always  being  a  man  of  character.  The  first  of  these  two  ex- 
jiressions  signifies  the  various  aptitudes,  inclinations,  or  habits 
which  distinguish  a  man  from  others  ;  the  second  signifies 
that  strength  of  will,  that  empire  over  himself  which  enables 
a  man  to  follow  faithfully  the  line  of  conduct  he  has  chosen, 
and  to  bravely  resist  temptations.     Character  is  not  always 


320  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

virtue  (for  it  may  be  controlled  by  false  and  vicious  princi- 
ples), but  it  is  its  condition. 

"  That  tendency  of  the  will  which  acts  according  to  fixed 
principles  (and  does  not  move  from  this  to  that,  like  a  fly)  is 
something  truly  estimable,  and  which  deserves  all  the  more 
admiration  as  it  is  extremely  rare.  The  question  here  is  not 
of  what  nature  makes  of  man,  but  of  what  man  makes  of  him- 
self. Talent  has  a  venal  value  which  allows  making  use  of 
the  man  therewith  endowed  ;  temperament  has  an  affection- 
value  which  makes  of  him  an  agreeable  companion  and  pleas- 
ant talker  ;  but  character  has  a  value  which  ])laces  him  above 
all  these  things."  * 

174.  Age. — To  this  classification  of  characters  according  to 
temperaments,  may  be  added  that  founded  on  age.  In  fact, 
different  ages  have,  as  it  is  well  known,  very  different  char- 
acteristics. Aristotle  f  was  the  first  to  describe  the  differences 
in  men's  morals  according  to  their  ages,  and  he  has  since 
been  very  often  imitated. 

"  I.  The  iionvg. — The  young  are  in  their  dispositions  prone 
to  desire,  and  of  a  character  to  effect  what  they  desire.  And 
they  desire  with  earnestness,  but  speedily  cease  to  desire  ; 
for  their  wishes  are  keen,  without  being  durable  ;  just  like 
the  hunger  and  thirst  of  the  sick.  And  they  are  passionate 
and  in-itable,  and  of  a  temperament  to  follow  the  impulse. 
And  they  cannot  overcome  their  anger  ;  for  by  reason  of  their 
ambition,  they  do  not  endure  a  slight,  but  become  indignant, 
and  fancy  themselves  injured  ;  and  they  are  ambitious  indeed 
of  honor,  Ijut  more  so  of  victory  ;  for  youth  is  desirous  of  su- 
periority, and  victory  is  a  sort  of  superiority.  And  they  are 
credulous,  from  their  never  having  yet  been  much  imposed 
on.  And  they  are  sanguine  in  their  expectations  ;  for,  like 
tliose  who  are  affected  by  wine,  so  the  young  are  warmed  by 
their  nature ;  and  at  the  same  time  from  their  having  never 

♦  Kant  givus  ingenious  examples  of  tlicse  tliroc  degrees   of  action.    See  his  An- 
thrnjmlogisdie  chn  rakterist  ik. 

t  Aristotle's  Rhetoric,  book  II.,  cli.  xii.,  xiii.,  xiv.,  Bolm's  translation. 


MORAL   MEDICINE   AND    GYMNASTICS.  ^21 

yet  mot  with  many  repulses.  Their  life  too,  for  the  most 
part,  is  one  of  hope  ;  for  hope  is  of  that  which  is  yet  to  be, 
while  memory  is  of  that  which  is  passed  :  but  to  the  young, 
that  which  is  yet  to  be  is  long  ;  but  that  which  has  passed  is 
short.  And  they  are  brave  rather  to  an  excess  ;  for  they  are 
irritable  and  sanguine,  qualities,  the  one  whereof  cancels  fear, 
and  the  other  inspires  courage ;  for  while  no  one  who  is  af- 
fected by  anger  ever  is  afraid,  the  being  in  hope  of  some  good 
is  a  thing  to  give  courage.  And  they  are  bashful ;  for  they 
do  not  as  yet  conceive  the  honorable  to  be  anything  distinct  • 
and  they  are  high-minded ;  for  they  have  not  as  yet  been 
humbled  by  the  course  of  life,  but  are  inexperienced  in  per- 
emptory circumstances  ;  again,  high-mindedness  is  the  deeming 
one's  self  worthy  of  much ;  and  this  belongs  to  persons  of  san- 
guine expectations.  And  they  prefer  succeeding  in  an  honor- 
able sense  rather  than  in  points  of  expediency  ;  for  they  live 
more  in  conformity  to  moral  feeling  than  to  mere  calculations  ; 
and  calculation  is  of  the  expedient,  moral  excellence,  however, 
of  that  which  is  honorable.  Again,  they  are  fond  of  friends 
and  companions,  by  reason  of  their  delighting  in  social  inter- 
course. And  all  their  errors  are  on  the  side  of  excess ;  for 
their  friendships  are  in  excess,  their  hatreds  are  in  excess, 
and  they  do  everything  else  with  the  same  degree  of  earnest- 
ness ;  they  think  also  that  they  know  everything,  and  firmly 
asseverate  that  they  do ;  for  this  is  the  cause  of  their  pushing 
everything  to  an  excess.  They  are  likewise  prone  to  pity ; 
and  they  are  also  fond  of  mirth,  on  which  account  they  are 
also  of  a  facetious  turn." 

*'  II.  The  old. — Those  who  are  advanced  in  life  are  of  dis- 
positions in  most  points  the  very  opposite  of  those  of  the 
young.  Since  by  reason  of  their  liaving  lived  many  years, 
and  having  been  deceived  in  the  greater  number  of  instances, 
and  having  come  to  the  conclusion,  too,  that  the  majority 
of  human  affairs  are  but  worthless,  they  do  not  positively 
asseverate  anything,  and  err  in  everything  more  on  the  side 
of  defect  than  they  ought.     And  they  always  '  suppose '  but 


322  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

never  'knotv'  certainly;  and  questioning  everything,  they 
always  subjoin  a  'perhaps,'  or  a  'possibli/.'  Moreover,  they 
are  apt  to  be  suspicious  from  distrust,  and  they  are  distrustful 
from  their  experience.  And  they  are  pusillanimous  from  their 
having  been  humbled  by  the  course  of  life  ;  for  they  raise 
their  desii-es  to  nothing  great  or  vast,  but  to  things  only 
which  conduce  to  support  of  life.  And  they  are  timid  and 
apprehensive  of  everything  ;  for  their  disposition  is  the  reverse 
of  that  of  the  young ;  for  they  have  been  chilled  by  years ; 
and  yet  they  are  attached  to  life,  and  particularly  at  its  closing 
day.  [They  are  apt  to  despond.]  And  they  live  more  in 
memory  than  in  hope ;  for  the  remnant  of  life  is  brief,  and 
what  has  passed  is  considerable.  And  their  desires  have, 
some,  abandoned  them,  the  others  are  faint.  They  are  neither 
facetious  nor  fond  of  mirth. 

"  III.  Mature  age. — Those  who  are  in  their  prime  will,  it  is 
evident,  be  m  a  mean  in  point  of  disposition  between  the 
young  and  the  old,  subtracting  the  excesses  of  each  :  being 
neither  rash  in  too  great  a  degree,  nor  too  much  given  to  fear, 
but  keeping  themselves  right  in  respect  to  both.  And  they 
are  of  a  tempering  coolness  joined  with  spirit,  and  are  spirited 
not  without  temperate  coolness.  And  thus,  in  a  word,  what- 
ever advantages  youth  and  age  have  divided  between  them, 
the  middle  age  possesses  both." 

We  must  admit  that  Aristotle,  who  has  so  admirably  de- 
picted young  and  old  men,  is  weak  on  the  subject  of  man- 
hood. Boileau,  translating  Horace,  makes  of  it  a  far  more 
clear  and  exact  picture  : 

"  Manhood,  more  ripe,  puts  on  a  wiser  look,  succeeds  with 
those  in  power,  intrigues,  and  spares  itself,  thinks  of  hold- 
ing its  own  against  the  blows  of  fate,  and  far  on  in  the  now 
looks  forth  to  the  to  he." 

175.  Passions. — Character,  considered  from  a  strictly 
l)hilosophical  standpoint,  is  nothing  more  than  the  various 
combinations  which  the  jiassions,  whether  natural  or  ac- 
<|iiired,  which  exist  in  man,  form  in  each  individual,  so  that 


MORAL   MEDICINE   AND   GYMNASTICS. 

there  is,  in  some  respect,  double  reason  for  treating  thv 
subjects  separately.  But,  in  the  first  place,  the  divers  \ 
ments  of  the  soul  take,  by  usage,  the  name  of  passions,\^  ^ 
when  they  reach  a  certain  degree  of  acuteness,  and,  as  Bacon 
puts  it,  of  disease.  Tn  the  second,  passions  are  the  elements 
which  in  divers  quantities  and  proportions  compose  wdiat  is 
termed  character ;  it  is  from  this  double  point  of  view  that 
Ave  must  speak  of  them  separately. 

If  we  consider  the  passions  from  a  psychological*  stand- 
point, we  shall  find  that  they  are  nothing  more  than  the 
natural  inclinations  of  the  human  heart. 

We  have  to  consider  them  here  especially  from  a  patholog- 
ical point  of  vieAV  (if  it  may  be  permitted  to  say  so),  that  is, 
as  diseases  of  the  human  heart. 

The  character  of  passions  regarded  as  diseases,  is  the  fol- 
lowing : 

1.  They  are  exclusive.  A  man  who  has  become  enslaved 
by  a  passion,  will  know  nothing  else,  w^ill  listen  to  nothing 
else  ;  he  will  sacrihce  to  that  passion  not  only  his  reason 
and  his  duty,  but  his  other  inclinations,  and  even  his  other 
passions  also.  The  passion  of  gambling  or  of  drinking  Avill 
stifle  all  the  rest,  ambition,  love,  even  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation. 

2.  Passion,  as  a  disease,  is  in  a  violent  condition  ;  it  is  im- 
petuous, disordered,  very  like  insanity. 

3.  Although  there  may  be  fits  of  j^assion,  sudden  and  fleet- 
ing, wdiich  rise  and  fall  again  in  the  same  instant,  we  gen(,'raliy 
give  the  name  of  passions  only  to  movements  which  have  be- 
come habitmil.  Passions  then  are  habits ;  applied  to  things 
base,  they  become  vices. 

4.  There  is  a  diagnosis!  of  passions  as  there  is  of  diseases. 
They  V)etray  themselves  outwardly  by  external  signs  which 
are    their  symptoms  (acts,    gestures,   physiognomy),  and  in- 

*  Psychology  is  the  science  which  treats  of  tlie  faculties  and  operations  of  the 
soul. 

t  Diagnosis  in  meilicine  is  tlie  art  of  determining  a  disease  by  means  of  the  symp- 
toms or  signs  it  presents. 


324  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

warelly,  by  first  indications  or  what  was  formerly  called  prod- 
romes, whicli  are  their  forerunners  (disturbance,  agitation,  etc.). 

5.  Passion,  like  disease,  has  its  history  :  it  has  its  regular 
course,  its  crisis,  and  termination.  The  Imitation  of  Jesus 
Christ  gives  in  a  few  words  the  history  of  a  passion  :  "  In  the 
beginning  a  simple  thought  presents  itself  to  the  mind  ;  this 
is  followed  by  a  vivid  fancy ;  then  conies  delectation,  a  bad 
impulse,  and  finally  the  consent.  Thus  does  the  evil  one 
gradually  enter  the  soul."  * 

6.  It  is  rare  that  a  passion  arises  and  develops  without  ob- 
stacles and  resistance.  Hence  that  state  we  have  called 
fluctuation  (Vol.  I.,  p.  167),  and  which  has  so  often  been  com- 
pared to  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  sea. 

These  general  features  of  the  passions  being  stated,  let  us 
make  a  brief  sketch  of  the  principal  passions. 

It  may  be  said  that  our  passions  pass  through  three  distinct 
states  ;  they  are  at  first  natural  and  unavoidable  affections 
of  the  mind  :  inclinations,  tendencies  ;  they  become  next  vio- 
lent and  unruly  movements  :  these  are  the  passions  properly 
so-called  ;  they  become  habits  and  embodied  in  the  character, 
and  take  the  name  of  qualities  and  defects,  virtues  and  vices. 
But  it  is  to  be  noted  that  whilst  we  can  always  distinguish 
these  three  states  theoretically,  language  is,  for  the  most  part, 
inadequate  to  express  them ;  for  men  have  designated  these 
moral  states  only  according  to  the  necessities  of  practice,  and 
not  according  to  the  rules  of  theory. 

The  three  states  which  we  have  just  pointed  out,  can  be 
very  clearly  distinguished  in  the  first  of  the  affections  of 
human  nature,  namely,  the  instinct  of  self-preservation.  This 
instinct  is  at  first  a  natural,  legitimate,  necessary  affection  of 
the  human  heart ;  but  by  the  force  of  circumstances,  the  in- 
fluence of  age,  disease,  temperament,  it  develops  out  of  propor- 
tion into  a  state  of  passion,  and  becomes  what  we  call  fear; 
or  else  it  turns  into  a  habit  and  becomes  the  vice  we  call 
coicardice. 

*  Imltaliou  of  Jesus  CJirist,  I.,  xii. 


MORAL   MEDICTXE   AND    GTMXASTICS.  325 

Physical  self-preservation  is  inseparable  from  two  api^ites 
called  hunger  and  thirst.  These  two  appetites,  too  nnieli  in- 
dulged in,  become  passions,  which  themselves  may  become 
vices.  But  language  fails  here  to  express  their  various  shades  : 
there  is  only  one  word  to  express  the  passion  or  vice  related 
to  eating  and  drinking  :  it  is  on  the  one  hand  gluttony,  and  on 
the  other  drunkenness ;  *  both  these  vices,  and  in  general  all 
undue  surrender  to  sensual  pleasures,  is  called  intempn-ance. 

The  source  of  all  our  personal  inclinations  is  the  love  for 
ourselves  or  self-love,  a  legitimate  instinct  when  kept  within 
bounds ;  but  when  carried  to  excess,  when  exclusive  and  pre- 
dominant, it  becomes  the  vice  we  call  selfishness. 

Self-esteem,  developed  into  a  passion,  becomes,  when  it 
turns' upon  great  things,,  false  pride ;  when  upon  small,  vanity. 

The  love  of  liberty  degenerates  into  a  spirit  of  revolt ;  the 
legitimate  love  of  power,  into  ambition  ;  the  instinct  ofiiroperty 
becomes  greed,  cupidity,  p)assion  for  gain,  and  tends  to  run 
into  the  ^jassion  for  gambling  or  the  desire  to  gain  by  means 
of  chance.  The  desire  for  gain  engenders  the  fear  of  loss,  and 
this  latter  passion  developing  into  a  vice  and  mania,  becomes 
avarice. 

Human  inclinations  are  divided  into  benevolent  and  malevo- 
lent inclinations.  The  first  may  develop  into  a  passion,  but 
not  into  a  vice ;  the  second  alone  become  vices. 

There  is  not  a  single  benevolent  inclination  which,  carried 
too  far  and  beyond  reason,  may  not  become  a  more  or  less 
blameworthy  passion.  But,  in  the  first  place,  we  have  no 
terms  in  our  language  to  express  the  exaggerations  of  these 
kinds  of  passions,  f  and  in  the  second,  though  they  be  exag- 
gerations, we  shall  never  call  the  tenderer  affections  of  the 
human  heart,  however  foolish  they  may  be,  vices,  if  they  are 
sincere. 

*  We  should,  however,  make  a  distinction  between  the  passion  for  wine  and 
drunkenness.  One  can  have  this  passion  without  giving  up  to  it.  Drunkenness  is 
the  habit  of  yielding  to  it. 

+  Sentimentality  is  false  sensibility,  and  not  exaggerated  sensibility.  Softness  is 
a  vague  expression.  Patriotism  may  by  exaggeration  become  faiMticisTii ;  but  this 
is  equally  true  of  other  sentiments — of  the  religious  sentiment,  for  example. 


^^^  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 


let,  may  some  of  these  affections  become  vices  when  they 
unite  with  personal  passion.  For  example,  good  nature  or 
the  desire  to  please  may  lead  to  obsequioits  servility,  the  desire 
to  praise,  to  flattery,  and  esteem,  to  hypocrisy.  But  these  vices 
partake  more  of  the  nature  of  self-love  than  of  benevolent  in- 
clinations. 

Malevolent  passions.-^M^^oleni  inclinations  give  rise  to 
the  most  terrible  passions.  But  are  there,  indeed,  in  man 
naturally  malevolent  inclinations?  Reid,  the  philosopher 
disputes  it  and  justly  thinks,  as  we  do,  that  malevolent  pas^ 
sions  are  but  the  abuse  of  certain  personal  inclinations  in- 
tended to  serve  as  auxiliaries  in  the  development  of  our  activity 
ihere  are  two  principal  malevolent  passions,  emulation  and 
anger. 

Emulation  is  but  a  special  desire  for  success  and  superiority 
This  desire,  induced  by  the  thought  that  other  men  around 
us  have  attained  to  such  or  such  degree  of  public  esteem  or 
power,  IS  not  in  itself  a  malevolent  inclination.  We  may 
wish  to  equal  and  surpass  others  without,  at  the  same  time 
wishing  them  any  harm.  We  can  experience  pleasure  in  ex^ 
celling  thein,  without  exactly  rejoicing  in  their  defeat  •  we 
can  bear  being  excelled  by  them  without  begrudging  them 
their  success.  »      o    o 

Emulation   then  is  a  personal  but  not  a  malevolent  senti- 
ment;  it  becomes  malevolent  and  vicious  when  our  feelings 
toward  others  become  inverted  :  when,  for  example,  we  regret, 
not  the  check  we  have  been  made  to  suffer,  but  the  advan^ 
age  our  rivals  have  gained  over  us,  and  when  we  are  unable 
to  bear  the  idea  of  the  good  fortune  of  others;  or  again  when 
conversely,  we  experience  more  pleasure  at  their  defeat  than 
joy  at  our  own  victory.     This  sentiment,  thus  perverted  be, 
comes  what  is  called  er^y  :  and  envy  is  generally  the  pain  we 
feel  at  the  good  fortune  of  others;  it  is  then  a  sentiment  im- 
plying the  wish  to  see  others  unhappy;  and  is  therefore  an 
actual  vice,  as  low  as  it  is  odious. 

£:nvy  which  has  some  analogy  with  jealousy  must  be  dis- 


MOEAL   MEDICINE    AND   GYMNASTICS.  327 

tinguished  from  the  latter.  Jealousy  is  a  kind  of  envy  Avliich 
bears  especially  upon  affections  it  is  not  allowed  to  share  ; 
envy,  upon  material  goods,  or  goods  in  the  abstract  (fortune, 
honors,  power).  The  envious  man  wants  goods  he  does  not 
possess ;  the  jealous  man  refuses  to  share  those  which  he  has. 
Jealousy  is  then  a  sort  of  selfishness,  not  as  base  as  envy,  since 
higher  goods  are  in  question,  but  which  for  its  consequences 
is  nevertheless  one  of  the  most  terrible  of  passions. 

Anger  is  a  natural  passion,  which  seems  to  have  been  be- 
stowed on  us  to  furnish  us  an  arm  against  peril ;  it  is  an  effort 
the  soul  makes  to  resist  an  evil  it  stands  in  danger  of.  But 
this  inclination  is  one  of  those  which  cause  i;s  the  quickest  to 
lose  our  self-possession,  and  throws  us  into  a  sort  of  moment- 
ary insanity.  Yet,  although  it  is  a  passion  of  which  the  con- 
sequences may  be  fatal,  it  is  not  necessarily  accompanied  by 
hatred  (as  may  l^e  seen  by  the  soldier  who  will  fight  furiously 
and  who,  immediately  after  the  battle  or  during  a  truce,  will 
shake  hands  with  his  enemy).  Anger  then  is  an  effort  of  nat- 
ure in  the  act  of  self-defense;  it  is  a  fever,  and  as  such  it  is 
a  fatal  and  culpable  passion,  but  it  is  not  a  vice. 

Anger  becomes  hatred  when,  thinking  of  the  harm  we  have 
done  or  could  do  to  our  enemy,  we  rejoice  over  the  thought  of 
this  harm  ;  it  is  called  resentment  or  rancor  when  it  is  the 
spiteful  recollection  of  an  injury  received  ;  finally,  it  becomes 
the  passion  of  vengeance  (the  most  criminal  of  all)  when  it 
is  the  desire  and  hope  to  return  evil  for  evil.  Pleasure  at  the 
misfortune  of  others,  when  it  reaches  a  certain  refinement, 
even  though  free  from  hatred,  becomes  crv£lty. 

Hatred  changes  into  contempt  when  there  is  joined  to  it 
the  idea  of  the  baseness  and  inferiority  of  the  person  who  is 
hated.  Contempt  is  a  legitimate  sentiment  when  it  has 
for  its  object  base  and  culpable  actions ;  it  is  a  bad  and 
blameworthy  passion  when  it  bears  u])on  a  pretended  inferior- 
ity, either  of  birth,  or  fortums  or  talent,  and  then  belongs  to 
false  pride.  False  pride,  however,  is  not  always  accompanied 
by  contempt.     We  see  men  full  of  self-satisfaction,  wlio  yet 


o28  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

know  how  to  be  polite  and  courteous  toward  those  they  regard 
their  inferiors  ;  others,  on  the  contrary,  who  look  down  upon 
their  inferiors  and  treat  them  like  brutes.  Contempt,  with 
such,  is  added  to  false  pride.  A  gentler  form  of  contempt  is 
disdain,  a  sort  of  delicate  and  covered  contempt.  Contempt 
when  it  applies  itself  to  set  off,  not  the  vices,  but  the  peculi- 
arities of  men,  trying  to  make  them  appear  ridiculous,  be- 
comes raillery  or  irony. 

Such  are  the  principal  affections  of  the  soul  viewed  as 
diseases,  that  is  to  say,  inasmuch  as  they  have  need  of  rem- 
edies. 

Let  us  now,  to  continue  Bacon's  comparison,  pass  to  their 
treatment. 

176.  Culture  of  the  soul. — After  having  studied  charac- 
ters and  passions,  we  have  to  ask  ourselves  by  what  means 
passions  may  be  governed  and  characters  modified  or  cor- 
rected. 

177.  Bossuet's  rule. — As  to  the  first  point,  namely,  the 
government  of  the  passions,  Bossuct  gives  us  in  his  Conimis- 
sance  de  Dieu  ei  de  soi-meme,  *  excellent  practical  advice  :  it 
is  obviously  based  on  his  study  of  consciences. 

He  justly  observes  that  we  cannot  directly  control  our  pas- 
sions :  "  We  cannot,"  he  says,  "  start  or  appease  our  anger  as 
Ave  can  move  an  arm  or  keep  it  still."  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  power  we  exercise  over  our  external  members  gives  us  also 
a  very  great  one  over  our  passions.  It  is,  of  coui-se,  but  an  in- 
direct power,  but  it  is  no  less  efficacious  :  "  Thus  can  I  put 
away  from  me  a  disagreeable  and  irritating  object,  and  when  my 
anger  is  excited,!  can  refuse  it  the  arm  it  needs  to  satisfy  itself." 

To  do  this  it  is  necessary  to  will  it;  but  there  is  nothing  so 
difficult  as  to  will  when  the  soul  is  possessed  by  a  passion. 
The  question  is  then  to  know  how  one  inay  escape  a  ruling 
passion.  To  succeed  in  it  one  should  not  attack  it  in  front, 
but  as  much  as  possible  turn  the  mind  upon  other  objects  :  it 
is  with  passion  "  as  with  a  river  which  is  more  easily  turned 

*  Chap,  in.,  19. 


MOilAL   MEDICINE   AND    GYMNASTICS.  329 

off  from  its  course  than  stopped  short."  A  passion  is  often 
conquered  by  means  of  another  passion,  "  as  in  a  State,"  says 
Bacon,  "  where  a  prince  restrains  one  faction  by  means  of 
another."  Bossuet  says  even  tliat  it  may  be  well,  in  order  to 
avoid  criminal  passions,  to  abandon  one's  self  to  innocent 
ones.*  One  should  also  be  careful  in  the  choice  of  the 
persons  he  associates  with  :  "for  nothing  more  arouses  the 
passions  than  the  talk  and  actions  of  passionate  men  ;  whilst 
a  quiet  mind,  provided  its  repose  be  not  feelingless  and  in- 
sipid, seems,  on  the  contrary,  to  communicate  to  us  its  own 
peace.  "We  need  something  lively  that  may  accord  with  our 
own  feelings. 

In  a  word,  to  conclude  with  Bossuet,  "  we  should  try  to 
calm  excited  minds  by  diverting  them  from  the  main  object 
of  their  excitement ;  approach  them  obliquely  rather  than 
directly  in  front ;  that  is  to  say,  that  when  a  passion  is  already 
excited,  there  is  no  time  then  to  attack  it  by  reasoning,  for 
one  drives  it  all  the  stronger  in.  Where  wise  reflections  are 
of  greatest  effect  is  in  the  forestalling  of  passions.  One  should 
therefore  fill  his  mind  with  sensible  thoughts,  and  accustom  it 
early  to  proper  inclinations,  so  that  there  be  no  room  for  the 
objects  of  passions." 

178.  Improvement  of  character. — Bossuet  has  just  in- 
formed us  how  we  are  to  conduct  ourselves  in  regard  to  the 
passions,  as  diseases  of  the  soul.  Let  us  now  see  how  char- 
acter, namely,  temperament,  may  be  modified. 

*  Plato  in  the  Phaedo  (trad,  de  Saisset,  p.  31)  seems  to  condemn  the  idea  of  com- 
bating passion  by  passion :  "  To  exchange  one  sensual  pleasure  for  another,"  he  says, 
•  '  one  grief  for  another,  one  fear  for  another,  and  to  do  like  those  who  get  small 
change  for  a  piece  of  money,  is  not  the  path  which  leads  to  virtue.  Wisdom  is  the 
only  true  coin  against  which  all  the  others  should  be  exchanged.  .  .  .  Without  wis- 
dom all  other  virtues  are  but  shadows  of  virtues,  a  virtue  the  slave  of  vice,  wherein 
there  is  nothing  wholesome  nor  true.  True  virtue  is  free  from  all  passion." 
Nothing  more  true  and  more  noble  ;  but  there  is  in  this  doctrine  nothing  contrary 
to  that  of  Bossuet.  The  question  is  not  to  exchange  one  passion  for  another,  for  such 
an  act  is  devoid  of  all  moral  character,  but  to  exchange  passion  against  wisdom 
and  virtue  ;  and  all  we  want  to  know  is  themeans.  Now  experience  coiilirms  what 
Bossuet  has  said,  namely,  that  one  cannot  immediately  triumph  over  a  jiassion, 
especially  when  at  its  zenith,  and  that  it  is  necess.ary  to  turn  one's  thoughts  ui>on 
other  objects  and  appeal  to  more  innocent  passions  or  to  passions,  if  not  less  ardent, 
at  least  more  noble,  such  as  patriotism  or  the  religious  sentiment 


330  ELEMENTS    OF    MORALS. 

The  character  is  a  collection  of  habits,  a  great  part  of  which 
belong,  unquestionably,  to  our  natural  inclinations,  but  which, 
nevertheless,  are  also  largely  formed  under  the  iniiuence  of 
education,  circumstances,  indulgence  of  passions,  etc.  It  is 
thus  character,  "  this  second  nature,"  as  it  has  often  been 
called,  gradually  develops. 

Character  being,  as  we  have  seen  above,  a  habit,  and  virtue, 
on  the  other  hand,  being  also  a  habit,  the  problem  which 
presents  itself  to  him  who  wishes  to  improve  his  character  and 
exchange  his  vices  for  virtues,  is  to  know  how  one  habit  may 
be  substituted  for  another,  and  how  even  a  painful  habit  may 
be  substituted  for  an  agreeable  habit,  sometimes  for  a  habit 
which  has  lost  its  charm,  but  not  yet  its  empire  over  one. 

This  problem  may  be  found  analyzed  and  most  pathetically 
described  in  the  Confessions  of  St.  Augustine : 

"  I  was,"  he  tells  us,  "  like  those  who  wish  to  get  awake,  but  who, 
overcome  by  sleep,  fall  back  into  slumber.  There  is  certainly  no  one 
who  would  -wish  to  sleep  always,  and  who  would  not  rather,  if  he  is 
healthy  of  mind,  prefer  the  waking  to  the  sleeping  state  ;  and  yet  there 
is  nothing  more  difficult  than  to  shake  off  the  languor  which  weighs 
our  limbs  down  ;  and  often,  though  the  hour  for  waking  has  come,  we 
are  against  our  will  made  captives  by  the  sweetness  of  sleep.  .  .  I  was 
held  back  by  the  frivolous  pleasures  and  foolish  vanities  which  I  had 
found  in  the  company  of  my  former  friends  :  they  hung  on  the  vestures 
of  my  flesh,  whispering,  '  Art  thou  going  to  abandon  us  ? '  .  .  .  If,  on 
the  one  hand,  virtue  attracted  and  persuaded  me,  pleasure  on  the  other 
captivated  and  enslaved  me.  .  .  I  had  no  other  answer  for  the  former, 
than  :  '  Presently,  presently,  wait  a  little.'  But  this  '  presently'  had 
no  end  and  this  'wait  a  little'  was  indefinitely  prolonged  ,^^  Wretch 
that  I  am  !  who  will  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ? "  * 

At  so  painful  a  juncture,  the  Christian  religion  offers  its 
children  an  all-powerful  and  efficacious  remedy  :  this  is  what 
it  calls  grace.  But  of  this  means  moral  philosophy  cannot 
dispose  ;  all  it  can  do  is  to  find  in  the  study  of  human  nature 
the  exclusively  natural  means  God  has  endowed  it  with,  to 
elevate  man  to  virtue.     Now,  these    means,  limited  though 

•  Confessions,  VIII.,  v. 


MOEAL  MEDICINE  AND   GYMNASTICS.  331 

they  be,  should,  not  be  considered  inefficient,  since  for 
many  centuries  they  sufficed  the  greatest  men  and  sages  of 
antiquity.* 

179.  Rules  of  Malebranche  and  Aristotle. — ^Ve  may  take 
for  a  starting  point  this  maxim  of  Malebranche,  which  he  bor- 
rowed from  Aristotle  :  Acts  prodicce  habits,  and  habits  produce 
acts.  J  ^  habit,  in  fact,  is  induced  by  a  certain  nuuiber  of 
often  repeated  actions ;  and  once  generated,  it  produces  in  its 
turn  acts,  so  to  say,  spontaneous  and  without  any  effort  of  the 
will.  Thence  spring  vices  and  virtues  ;  and  the  problem  is  to 
know  how  the  first  may  be  corrected,  and  the  second  retained  : 
for  the  question  is  not  only  to  pass  from  evil  to  good,  but  we 
should  also  take  care  not  to  slide  from  good  into  evil. 

If  the  first  maxim  of  Malebranche  were  absolute,  it  would 
follow  that  the  soid.  could  not  change  its  habits,  nor  the  bad 
man  improve,  nor  the  good  become  corrupt ;  it  would  follow 
that  hope  would  be  interdicted  to  the  one,  and  that  the  other 
would  have  nothing  more  to  fear;  consequences  which  experi- 
ence shows  to  be  entirely  false.  Some  fanatical  sects  may 
have  believed  that  virtue  or  holiness  once  attained  could 
never  again  be  lost,|  and  this  belief  served  as  a  shield  to  the 
most  shameful  disorders.  Facts,  on  the  contrary,  teach  us 
that  there  is  no  virtue  so  infallible  as  to  be  secure  against  a 
fall,  and  no  vice  ever  so  deeply  rooted  that  may  not  be  less- 

*  The  virtues  of  the  pagans  have  been  often  depreciated,  and  St.  Augustine  himself, 
great  an  admirer  as  he  was  of  antiquity,  called  them,  nevertheless,  splendid  vices 
(vitia  sj)kndida).  They  are  often  regarded  as  induced  by  pride  rather  than  by  a 
sincere  love  of  virtue.  We  should  beware  of  such  interpretations,  for  once  on  the 
road  of  moral  pessimism,  there  is  no  reason  for  stopping  at  anj-thing.  We  may  as 
well  maintain  that  there  are  a  thousand  forms  of  pride,  and  that  self-love  often  sets 
its  glory  in  pretending  to  overcome  itself.  "  We  must  therefore  not  wonder  to  find 
it  coupled  with  the  greatest  austerity,  and,  in  order  to  destroy  itself,  make  us 
bravely  a  companion  of  it,  for  whilst  it  ruins  itself  in  one  place,  it  starts  up  again  in 
another."  It  may  be  seen  by  this  passage  of  La  Rochefoucauld,  that  it  is  of  no  use 
to  interpret  the  pagan  virtues  in  a  l)ad  sense,  for  the  argument  can  be  retorted.  It  is 
better  to  regard  virtue  as  sincere  and  true  wherever  we  meet  with  it,  so  long  as 
there  are  no  proofs  to  the  contrary. 

t  Traite  de  morale,  III.,  2. 

t  The  theory  of  inadmissible  sanctity  consisted  in  maintaining  that  man,  having 
reached  a  state  of  sanctity,  could  never  again,  whatever  he  might  do,  fall  from  it 


332  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

ened  or  destroyed.  In  fact,  and  this  is  Malebranche's  second 
maxim  :  One  can  always  act  against  a  ruling  habit.  If  one 
can  act  contrary  to  a  positive  habit,  such  acts  often  repeated 
may,  according  to  the  first  maxim,  produce,  by  the  effort  of 
the  will,  a  new  habit  which  will  take  the  place  of  the  preced- 
ing one.  One  can  thus  either  corrupt  or  correct  one's  self. 
Only,  as  the  virtuous  habits  are  the  more  painful  t(i  acquire, 
and  the  vicious  habits  the  more  agreeable,  it  will  always  be 
more  easy  to  pass  from  good  to  evil  than  from  evil  to  good. 

How  shall  we  proceed  to  substitute  a  good  habit  for  a  bad 
one  ?  Aristotle  says  that  when  we  have  a  defect  to  get  rid  of, 
we  should  throw  ourselves  into  the  opposite  extreme,  so 
that  after  having  removed  ourselves  with  all  our  might  from 
the  dreaded  fault  we  may  in  some  respects,  and  through 
natural  elasticity,  return  to  the  just  medium  indicated  by 
reason,  just  as  a  bent  wand  straightens  itself  again  when  let 
go.  This  maxim  may  do  in  certain  cases  and  with  certain 
characters,  but  it  would  have  to  be  applied  cautiously.  One 
may,  under  the  influence  of  enthusiasm,  throw  himself  into  a 
violent  extreme,  and  remain  there  for  some  time ;  but  at  the 
moment  of  reaction  it  is  not  impossible  that,  instead  of  stop- 
ping at  the  desired  medium,  he  may  fall  back  into  the  first 
extreme  again. 

180.  Rules  of  Bacon  and  Leibnitz. — Bacon,*  who  did 
not  find  Aristotle's  maxim  sufficient,  tries  to  complete  it  by  a 
few  additional  ones  : 

1.  One  should  beware  of  beginning  with  too  difficult  tasks, 
and  should  proportion  them  to  his  strength — in  a  word,  j/roceed 
bi/  degrees.  For  example,  he  Avho  wishes  to  correct  himself 
of  his  laziness,  should  not  at  once  impose  too  great  a  work 
upon  himself,  but  he  should  every  day  work  a  little  longer 
than  the  day  before,  until  the  habit  is  formed. 

In  order  to  render  these  exercises  less  painful,  it  is  per- 
mitted to  employ  some  auxiliary  means,  like  some  one  learn- 

*  The  Dignity  of  Sciences,  VII.,  iii. 


MORAL   MEDICIXE    AND    GYMNASTICS.  333 

ing  to  swim  will  use  bladders  or  willow  supports.  After  a 
little  Avliile  the  difficulties  will  be  purposely  increased,  like 
dancers  who,  to  acquire  agility,  practice  at  first  with  very 
heavy  shoes. 

"  There  is  to  be  observed,"  adds  Bacon,  "  that  there  are 
certain  vices  (and  drunkenness  is  one  of  them)  where  it  is 
dangerous  to  proceed  by  degrees  only,  and  where  it  is  better 
to  cut  short  at  once  and  in  an  absolute  manner. 

2.  The  second  maxim,  where  the  question  is  of  acquiring  a 
new  virtue,  is  to  choose  for  it  two  different  opportunities : 
the  first  when  one  feels  best  disposed  toward  the  kind  of 
actions  he  may  have  in  view  ;  the  second,  when  as  ill  disposed 
as  possible,  so  as  to  take  advantage  of  the  first  opportunity  to 
make  considerable  headway,  and  of  the  second,  to  exercise  the 
energy  of  the  will.  This  second  rule  is  an  excellent  one,  and 
truly  efficacious. 

3.  A  third  rule  is,  when  one  has  conquered,  or  thinks  he 
has  conquered,  his  temperament,  not  to  trust  it  too  much. 
It  were  Avell  to  remember  here  the  old  maxim  :  "  Drive  away 
temperament,^^  etc.,  and  remember  ^sop's  cat,  Avhich,  meta- 
morphosed into  a  woman,  behaved  very  well  at  table  until 
it  espied  a  mouse. 

Leibnitz  also  gives  us  some  good  advice  as  to  practical 
prudence,  to  teach  us  to  triumpli  over  ourselves,  and  ex- 
pounds in  his  own  way  the  same  ideas  as  Bossuet  and 
Bacon : 

"  "V^Hien  a  man  is  in  a  good  state  of  mind  he  should  lay 
down  for  himself  laws  and  rules  for  the  future,  and  strictly 
adhere  to  them  ;  he  should,  according  to  the  natiire  of  the 
thing,  either  suddenly  or  gradually  turn  liis  back  upon  all 
occasions  liable  to  degrade  him.  A  journey  undertaken  on 
purpose  by  a  lover  will  cure  him  of  his  love  ;  a  sudden 
retreat  will  relieve  us  of  bad  company.  Francis  Borgia, 
general  of  the  Jesuits,  who  was  finally  canonized,  being 
accustomed  to  drink  freely  whilst  yet  a  man  of  tlie  world, 
when  he  began  to  withdraw^  from  it  gradually  reduced  his 


334  ELEMENTS   OF   MOEALS. 

allowance  to  the  smallest  amount  by  dropping  every  day  a 
piece  of  wax  into  the  bowl  he  was  in  the  habit  of  empty- 
ing. To  dangeroiis  likings  one  must  oppose  more  innocent 
likings,  such  as  agriculture,  gardening,  etc. ;  one  must  shun 
idleness ;  make  coUections  of  natural  history  or  art  objects ; 
engage  in  scientific  experiments  and  investigations ;  one  must 
mie  himself  some  indispensable  occupation,  or,  m  default  of 
such  engage  in  useful  or  agreeable  conversation  or  reading. 
In  a  word"  one  should  take  advantage  of  all  good  impulses 
toward  forming  strong  resolutions,  as  if  they  were  the  voice 

of  God  calling  us.* 

181  Franklin's  Almanac— To  these  maxims  concerning 
the  formation  and  perfecting  of  character,  may  fittuigly  be 
added  the  moral  method  which  Benjamin  Franklm  adopted 
for  his  o^vn  improvement  in  virtue.  He  had  made  a  list  of 
the  quaUties  which  he  wished  to  acquire  and  develop  within 
himself,  and  had  reduced  them  to  thirteen  principal  ones. 
This  classification,  which  has  no  scientific  value,  appeared  to 
him  entirelv  sufficient  fo.  the  end  he  had  in  view.  These 
thirteen  virtues  are  the  following :  temperance,  sdence,  order, 
resolution,  frugality,  industry,  sincerity,  justice,  moderation, 
cleanliness,  tranquillity,  chastity,  humility. 

This  catalogue,  once  drawn  up,  Franklin,  reflecting  that  it 
would  be  diffi'cult  to  fight  at  the  same  time  thirteen  defects 
and  keep  his  mind  on  thirteen  virtues,  had  an  idea  similar  to 
that  of  Horatius  in  his  combat  with  the  Curiatii :  he  resolved 
to  fi-ht  his  enemies  one  by  one  ;  he  applied  to  morality  the 
wellino^ra   principle    of  politicians:    ^^  Divide  if  thou   wilt 

rule  " 

"'l  made  a  little  book,"  he  says,  "  in  which  I  allotted  a  page 
for  each  t)f  the  virtues.  I  ruled  each  page  with  red  ink,  so 
as  to  have  seven  columns,  one  for  each  day  of  the  week,  mark- 
in-  each  column  with  a  letter  for  the  day.  I  crossed  these 
columns  with  thirteen  red  lines,  marking  the  beginning  of 
each  line  with  the  first  letter  of  one  of  the  virtues  ;  on  which 

*  Essays  on  the  Human  Understauding,  II.,  xxi. 


MORAL   MEDICIXE   AND    GYMNASTICS.  335 

line,  and  in  its  proper  column,  I  might  mark,  by  a  little  black 
spot,  every  fault  I  found  upon  examination  to  have  been 
committed  respecting  that  virtue  upon  that  day. 

"  I  determined  to  give  a  week's  strict  attention  to  each  of 
the  virtues  successively.  Thus,  in  the  first  week,  my  great 
guard  was  to  avoid  even  the  least  olfense  against  temperance  ; 
leaving  the  other  virtues  to  their  ordinary  chance,  only  mark- 
ing every  evening  the  faults  of  the  day.  Thus,  if  in  the  first 
Aveek  I  could  keep  my  first  line,  marked  T,  clear  of  spots,  I 
supposed  the  habit  of  that  virtue  so  much  strengthened,  and 
its  opposite  weakened,  that  I  might  venture  extending  my  at- 
tention to  include  the  next,  and  for  the  following  week  keep 
both  lines  clear  of  spots.  Proceeding  thus  to  the  last,  I  could 
get  through  a  course  complete  in  thirteen  weeks,  and  four 
courses  in  a  year.  And,  like  him,  who,  having  a  garden  to 
weed,  does  not  attempt  to  eradicate  all  the  bad  herbs  at  once, 
which  would  exceed  his  reach  and  his  strength,  but  works  on 
one  of  the  beds  at  a  time,  and,  having  accomplished  the  first, 
proceeds  to  a  second ;  so  I  should  have,  I  hoped,  the  en- 
couraging pleasure  of  seeing  on  my  pages  the  progress  made  in 
virtue,  b}'  clearing  successively  my  lines  of  their  spots  ;  till, 
in  the  end,  by  a  number  of  courses,  I  should  be  happy  in 
viewing  a  clean  book,  after  a  thirteen  weeks'  daily  examina- 
tion." 

182.  Maxim  of  Epictetus. — The  wise  Epictetus  gives  us 
the  same  advice  as  Franklin :  "  If  you  would  not  be  of  an 
angry  temper,"  he  says,  "  then  do  not  feed  the  habit.  Be 
quiet  at  first,  then  count  the  days  where  you  have  not  been 
angry.  You  will  say  :  '  I  used  to  be  angry  every  day  ;  now 
every  other  day  ;  then  every  third  or  fourth  day,  and  if  you 
miss  it  so  long  as  thirty  days,  offer  a  sacrifice  to  God."  *  He 
said,  moreover  :  "  If  you  will  practice  self-control,  take,  when 
it  is  warm  and  j'ou  are  thirsty,  a  mouthful  of  fresh  water,  and 
spit  it  out  again,  and  tell  no  one." 

183.  Individual  character — Cicero's  maxims. — The  phi- 

*  Epictt'tus,  II.,  xviii.  (T.  W.  Iligginsoirs  tr.insl.). 


336  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

losophers  whom  we  have  just  cited  give  us  rules  to  combat 
and  correct  our  temperament  when  it  is  vicious.  Cicero,  on 
the  contrary,  gives  us  others  to  maintain  our  individual  char- 
acter and  remain  true  to  it ;  and  these  rules  are  no  less  useful 
than  the  others.  He  justly  observes  that  every  man  has  his 
own  inclinations  which  constitute  his  individual  and  original 
character.  "  Some,"  he  says,  "  are  more  agile  in  the  foot- 
race ;  others  stronger  at  wrestling ;  these  are  more  noble, 
tliose  more  graceful;  Scaurus  and  Drusus  were  singularly 
grave  ;  Lajlius,  very  merry  ;  Socrates  was  playful  and  amusing 
in  conversation.  Some  are  simple-minded  and  frank,  others, 
like  Hannibal  and  Fabins,  more  crafty.  In  short,  there  is  an 
infinite  variety  of  manners  and  differences  of  character  without 
their  being  for  that  blamable."  * 

IS'ow,  this  is  a  very  sensible  principle  of  Cicero,  that  we 
ought  not  to  go  against  the  inclinations  of  our  nature  when 
they  are  not  vicious  : 

"/ft  constraining  our  talents 
We  do  nothing  gracefully," 
said  the  fabulist.  "  Let  each  of  us  then  know  his  own  dis- 
position, and  be  to  himself  a  severe  judge  concerning  his  own 
defects  and  qualities.  Let  us  do  as  the  players  who  do  not 
always  choose  the  finest  parts,  but  those  best  suited  to  their 
talent,  ^^^sopusf  did  not  often  play  the  part  of  Ajax." 
Cicero  in  this  precept,  "  that  every  one  should  remain  true  to 
his  individual  character,"  goes  so  far  as  to  justify  Cato's  sui- 
cide, for  the  reason  that  it  accorded  with  his  character. 
"  Others,"  he  says,  "  might  be  guilty  in  comnutting  suicide ; 
but  in  the  case  of  Cato,  he  was  right ;  it  was  a  duty ;  Cato 
ought  to  have  died."  %  This  is  carrying  the  rights  and  duties 
of  the  individual  character  somewhat  far;  but  it  is  certain 
that,  aside  from  the  great  general  duties  of  humanity,  which 
are  the  same  for  all  men,  each  individual  man  has  a  rule  to 

*  De  Officiis,  I.,  XXX. 

+  The  greatest  tragic  actor  at  Rome,  and  a  contemporary  of  Roscius,  the  greatest 
comic  actor.— Teanslatob. 
t  T)p.  Offieiis,  I.,  xxxi. 


MORAL   MEDICINE   AND   GYMNASTICS.  337 

play  on  earth,  and  this  role  is  in  part  determined  by  our 
natural  dispositions  ;  now,  we  should  yield  to  these  disposi- 
tions, when  they  are  not  vicious,  and  should  develop  them. 

184.  Self-examination. — Finally,  what  is  especially  im- 
portant, considered  from  a  practical  standpoint  and  in  the 
light  of  moral  discipline,  is,  that  each  one  should  render  him- 
self an  exact  account  of  his  own  disposition,  his  defects,  oddi- 
ties, vices,  so  that  he  be  able  to  correct  them.  Such  was 
the  practical  sense  of  that  celebrated  maxim  formerly  inscribed 
over  the  temple  at  Delphi :  "  Know  thyself."  This  is  Socrates' 
(jwn  interpretation  of  it  in  his  conversations  with  his  dis- 
ciples :  "  Tell  me,  Euthydemus,  have  you  ever  gone  to 
Delphi?" — "  Yes,  twice." — -"And  did  you  observe  what  is 
■written  somewhere  on  the  tem pie- wall :  Know  Thyself  ? " — • 
"  I  did." — "Think  you  that  to  know  one's  self  it  is  enough  to 
know  one's  own  name  1  Is  there  nothing  more  needed  ?  And 
as  those  who  buy  horses  do  not  think  they  know  the  animal 
they  wish  to  buy  till  they  have  examined  it  and  discovered 
w^hether  it  is  obedient  or  restive,  vigorous  or  weak,  swift  or 
slow,  etc.,  must  we  not  likewise  knovr  ourselves  to  judge  what 
we  are  really  worth?" — "Certainly." — "It  is  then  obvious 
that  this  knowledge  of  himself  is  to  man  a  source  of  much 
good,  whilst  being  in  error  about  himself  exposes  him  to  a 
thousand  evils.  Those  who  know  themselves  well,  know 
Avhat  is  useful  to  them,  discern  what  they  can  or  cannot  do ; 
now,  in  doing  what  they  are  capable  of  doing,  they  procure 
the  necessaries  of  life  and  are  happy.  Those  who,  on  the  con- 
trary, do  not  know  themselves,  fail  in  all  their  enterprises, 
and  fall  into  contempt  and  dishonor."* 

185.  Examination  of  the  conscience. — To  know  one's  self 
well,  it  is  necessary  to  examine  one's  self.  Hence  a  practice 
often  recommended  by  moralists,  and  particularly  Christian 
moralists,  known  also  by  the  ancients,  namely,  the  examina- 
tion of  the  conscience. 

There  is  a  fine  picture  of  it  in  Seneca's  writings :  "  We 

*  Memomhilia  of  Socrates,  IV.,  iv. 


338  ELEMETSTTS    OF   MORALS. 

should,"  says  the  philosopher,  "  call,  every  day,  our  conscience 
to  account.  Thus  did  Sextius  ;  when  his  daily  work  was  done, 
he  questioned  his  soul :  Of  what  defect  hast  thou  cured  thy- 
self to-day  ?  What  passion  hast  thou  combated  ?  In  what  hast 
thou  become  better  ?  What  more  beautiful  than  this  habit  of 
going  thus  over  the  whole  day  !  .  .  .  I  do  the  same,  and  be- 
ing my  own  judge,  I  call  myself  before  my  own  tribunal. 
A\^len  the  light  has  been  carried  away  from  my  room,  I  begin 
an  inquest  of  the  whole  day ;  I  examine  all  my  actions  and 
words.  I  conceal  nothing,  allow  myself  nothing.  And  why 
should  I  hesitate  to  look  at  any  of  my  faults  when  I  can  say 
to  myself :  Take  care  not  to  do  so  again  :  for  to-day  I  forgive 
thee?"* 

To  designate  all  the  practices  which  experience  of  life  has 
suggested  to  the  moralists,  to  induce  men  to  better,  correct, 
perfect  themselves  in  right  doing,  would  be  an  endless  task. 
Xo  better  method  in  this  respect  than  to  read  the  Christian 
moralists:  Bossuet,  Tension,  Nicole,  Bourdaloue.  The  advice 
they  give  concerning  the  proper  use  of  time,  opportunities, 
temptations,  false  shame,  loose  conversations,  perseverance,  can 
be  applied  to  morals  as  well  as  to  religion.  Reading,  medita- 
tion, proper  company,  good  advice,  selection  of  some  great 
model  to  follow,  etc.,  are  the  principal  means  we  should  em- 
ploy to  perfect  ourselves  in  the  right :  "  If  we  extirpated  and 
uprooted,  every  year,  a  single  vice  only,  we  should  soon  be- 
come perfect  men."  f 

186.  Kant's  Catechism. — An  excellent  practice  in  moral 
education  is  what  Kant  calls  a  moral  catechism,  in  which  the 
master,  under  the  form  of  questions  and  answers,  sums  up  the 
principles  of  morality.  The  pupil  learns  thereby  to  account 
for  ideas  of  which  he  is  but  vaguely  conscious,  and  which  he 
often  confounds  with  principles  of  another  order,  with  the  in- 


♦  Seneoa,  on  Anger,  III.,  38.  To  tell  the  truth,  Seneca  forgave  himself  sometimes 
too  easily  perhaps,  as,  for  example,  on  tlie  day  when  he  defended  the  murder  of 
Agrippina  ;  we  are  often  too  much  disposed  to  imitate  him. 

t  Imitatwn  of  Jesus  Christ  I.,  xi. 


MORAL   MEDICIXE    AND    GYMNASTICS.  339 

stinct  of  happiness,  for  example,  or  the  consideration  of  self- 
interest. 

The  following  are  some  extracts  from  Kant's  Moral  Cate- 
chism* 

Teacher.— \\\iSii  is  thy  greatest  and  even  thy  only  wish  on 
earth  ? 

The  pupil  remains  silent,  f 

Teacher. — Is  it  not  always  to  succeed  in  everything  accord- 
ing to  thy  Avishes  and  will  1     How  do  we  call  such  a  state  1 

The  pupd  remains  silent. 

Teacher. — We  call  it  happiness  (namely,  constant  prosperity, 
a  life  all  satisfaction,  and  to  be  absolutely  content  with  one's 
condition).     Now,  if  thou  hadst  in  thy  hands  all    possible 
earthly  happiness,  wouldst  thou  keep  it  wholly  to  thyself,  or  ■ 
share  it  with  thy  fellow-beings  1 

Pupil. — I  should  share  it  with  them  ;  I  should  make  others 
happy  and  contented  also. 

Teaclier. — This  already  shows  that  thou  hast  a  good  heart. 
Let  us  see  now  if  thou  hast  also  a  good  judgment.  "Wouldst 
thou  give  to  the  idler  soft  cushions ;  to  the  drunkard  wine  in 
abundance,  and  all  else  that  will  produce  drunkenness ;  to 
the  rogue  agreeable  manners  and  a  fine  presence,  that  he 
might  the  more  easily  deceive ;  to  the  violent  man,  audacity 
and  a  strong  fist  ? 

Pupil. — Certainly  not. 

Teacher. — Thou  seest  then  that  if  thou  heldst  all  happiness 
in  thy  hands,  thou  wouldst  not,  Avithout  reflection,  distribute 
it  to  each  as  he  desires  ;  but  thou  wouldst  ask  thyself  how  far 
he  is  worth  1/  of  it.  Woidd  it  not  also  occur  to  thee  to  ask 
thyself  Avhether  thou  art  thyself  worthy  of  happiness  ? 

Pujnl.  — Undoubtedly. 

*  Doctrine  de  la  Vertu,  trad.  fr.  p.  170. 

We  give  here  this  catechism  as  an  example  of  what  might  be  done  in  a  course  of 
morals.     The  teacher  can  modify  its  form  and  developments  as  he  thinks  best. 

t  We  can  see  by  this  that  Kant  understood  youth.  In  a  Socratic  interrogation  of 
this  kind,  the  pupil,  distrusting  his  powers,  will  always  begin  by  being  silent.  It  is 
only  when  he  perceives  that  he  knows  what  was  asked  him,  that  he  ventures  to  an- 
swer, and  answers  well. 


340  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS 

Teacher. — Well,  then,  that  Avhich  in  thee  inclines  to  happi- 
ness, is  called  inclination;  that  which  judges  that  the  first 
condition  to  enjoy  happiness  is  to  be  worthy  of  it,  is  the  rea- 
son ;  and  the  faculty  thou  hast  to  overcome  thy  inclination  by 
thy  reason,  is  liberty.  For  example,  if  thou  couldst  without 
injuring  any  one  procure  to  thyself  or  to  one  of  thy  friends  a 
great  advantage  by  means  of  an  adroit  falsehood,  Avhat  says 
thy  reason  ? 

Pupil. — That  I  must  not  lie,  whatever  great  advantage  may 
result  from  it  to  me  or  to  my  friend.  Falsehood  is  degrading, 
and  renders  man  unuwihy  of  being  happj'.  There  is  in  this 
case  absolute  necessity  imposed  on  mo  by  a  command  or  pro- 
hibition of  my  reason,  and  which  should  silence  all  my  incli- 
nations. 

Teacher. — What  do  we  call  this  necessity  of  acting  conform- 
ably to  the  law  of  reason  ? 

Pupil. — We  call  it  duty. 

Teacher. — Thus  is  the  observance  of  our  duty  the  general 
condition  on  which  we  can  alone  be  worthy  of  happiness.  To 
be  woHhy  of  happiness  and  to  do  one^s  dttty  is  one  and  the 
same  thing. 


APPENDIX*   TO    CHAPTER  VI 11. 


THE   UXIOX    OF   CLASSES. 

A  SUBJECT  wWch  has  attracted  much  attention,  and  which  is  often 
referred  to  in  conversation,  in  books,  in  political  assemblies,  is  the 
various  classes  of  society  ;  there  are  upper  and  lower  classes,  and  be- 
tween these  two,  a  middle  class.  "We  speak  of  laboring  classes,  poor 
classes,  rich  classes.  These  are  expressions  which  it  were  desirable 
should  disappear.  They  relate  to  ancient  customs,  ancient  facts,  and 
in  the  present  state  of  society  correspond  no  longer  to  situations  now 
all  clearly  defined.  They  are  vestiges  which  last  long  after  the  facts  to 
which  the)'  corresponded  have  disappeared,  and  which  retained  are  often 
followed  by  grave  consequences.  They  give  rise  to  misunderstanding, 
false  ideas,  sentiments  more  or  less  blameworthy.  I  should  like  to 
show  that  in  the  present  state  of  society,  there  are  no  longer  any  cla.sses, 
that  there  are  only  men,  indi\'iduals.  The  word  classes,  in  a  strict 
sense,  can  be  applied  only  to  a  state  of  society  where  social  and  natural 
advantages  are  conferred  by  the  law  to  certain  men  at  the  expense  of 
others  ;  where  some  can  procure  these  advantages  whilst  others  never 
can  ;  where  the  public  burden  weighs  on  a  certain  class,  on  a  certain 
number  of  men,  whilst  the  others  are  entirely  free  from  it,  and  this,  I 
repeat,  by  the  sanction  of  law,  and  by  social  organization. 

This  state  of  things  has  existed,  with  more  or  less  differences  and 
notably  great  changes,  in  all  past  centuries.  Its  lowest  degree  is,  for 
example,  that  where  it  is  impossible  for  certain  men  to  procure  to  them- 
selves the  goods  desired  by  all,  where  they  can  never  own  any  kind  of 
property,  however  small,  where  they  are  themselves  considered  prop- 
erty ;  where,  instead  of  being  allowed  to  sell  an<l  buy,  they  are  tlieni- 
selves  sold  and  bought,  themselves  reduced  to  an  object  of  commerce. 
This  state  is  that  called  slavery. 

Slavery,  in  its  strict  sense,  is  the  state  where  man  is  the  property  of 

*  We  give  this  as  a  useful  supplement  to  Chapter  VIII.  It  is  a  lecture  formerly 
delivered  on  the  Union  of  Classes  (1867,  Remie  des  covrs  litteraires,  v.,  p.  42).  .  .  We 
beg  to  be  pardoned  for  what  negligences  of  style  may  have  erupt  into  the  improvisa- 
tion. 


342  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

other  men,  is  a  thing  ;  where  lie  is  bought  and  sold,  and  where  his  work 
does  not  belong  to  him,  but  to  his  master. 

This  state  of  things  existed  through  all  anti(|uity.  Society,  with  the 
ancients,  was  divided  into  two  great  classes  (the  term  is  here  perfectly 
in  its  place),  classes  very  unequal  in  numbers,  where  the  more  numer- 
ous were  the  property  of  the  least  numerous.  The  citizens,  as  they  were 
called,  or  freemen,  who  constituted  a  part  of  the  State,  the  Republic, 
had  no  need  of  working  to  make  a  living,  because  tliey  owned  living 
instruments  of  work — men. 

This  state  of  things,  you  well  know,  did  not  only  exist  in  antiquity  ; 
it  was  perpetuated  till  our  days,  and  it  is  not  very  long  since  it  still 
existed  in  some  of  the  greatest  societies  of  the  world.  We  may  consider 
it  at  present  as  wholly  done  away  Avith. 

A  notch  higher,  we  find  the  state  called  serfdom,  where  man  is  not 
wholly  interdicted  to  own  property,  and  where  he  is  allowed  a  family, 
which  fact  constitutes  the  superiority  of  serfdom  over  slavery.  It  is  ob- 
vious that  in  a  state  of  slavery,  there  can  be  no  family  :  a  man,  the  prop- 
erty of  another,  liable  to  be  bought  and  sold,  can  have  no  family.  Serf- 
dom, which  in  the  Middle  Ages  existed  in  all  European  .societies,  and 
but  recently  was  abolished  in  Russia,  allowed  the  individual  a  family, 
and  in  a  certain  measure  even  the  right  of  property  ;  but  he  was  a  part 
of  the  land  on  which  he  was  born,  and,  like  that  land,  belonged  to  a 
master,  a  lord. 

The  serf  then  was,  as  it  is  commonly  called,  attached  to  the  glche,  to 
the  land,  unable  to  leave  it,  unable  to  buy  or  sell  except  under  extremely 
restricted  conditions,  and  thus  a  part  of  the  soil  on  which  he  was 
born,  he  belonged  with  that  soil  to  his  lord.  This  state  of  things  was 
gradually  bettered.  The  serfs,  little  by  little,  acquired  by  their  work  a 
small  capital  ;  they  succeeded  in  buying  their  liberty  from  their  lords. 
It  is  this  which  gave  rise  to  that  ancient  society,  called  ancien  regime, 
which  preceded  the  French  Revolution.  But  all  men  Avere  not  serfs  ; 
things  had  not  reached  that  point  ;  serfdom  had  already  been  abolished 
by  means  of  certain  contracts,  certain  sums  of  money  which  the  work- 
ino--men  paid  as  a  sign  of  their  former  thraldom.  Yet  was  there  still  in 
force  much  that  was  iniquitous,  forming  what  is  called  an  aristocratic 
society,  where,  for  example,  some  men  had  the  exclusive  right  of  hold- 
ing and  transmitting  to  their  children  territorial  property,  which  they 
were  not  allowed  to  put  in  trade,  the  exclusive  right  of  holding  public 
functions,  of  having  grades  in  the  army,  the  right  of  hunting  and  fish- 
ing, etc.  And  conversely,  on  the  other  hand,  whilst  the  minority 
enjoyed  so  exclusively  all  these  privileges,  the  costs  of  society  rested  on 
the  greater  number,  and  these  costs  the  serfs  were  obliged  to  pay. 
Hence  a  society  in  which  there  were  classes,  since  the   law  conferred 


APPENDIX   TO   CHAPTER   VIII.  343 

social  advantages  on  some  in  preference  to  others,  and  heavy  burdens 
resting  on  some  without  resting  on  others. 

As  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  write  here  the  history  of  modern  society,  I 
need  not  enter  into  all  the  details  of  these  facts,  which  are,  besides,  quite 
well  known. 

You  all  know  that  these  great  social  injustices  and  iniquitous  prac- 
tices disappeared  at  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  and  that  the  princii)al 
object  of  the  French  Revolution  of  1789  was  precisely  to  suppress  all 
these  privileges  conceded  to  some,  and  these  burdens  unequally  imposed 
on  others.  From  that  moment,  there  was  equality  in  law,  that  is  to 
say,  that  all  men  belonging  to  our  present  society  are  allowed  to  accumu- 
late property,  exercise  public  functions,  rise  to  higher  grades — in  a 
word,  are  considered  fit  to  obtain  all  the  advantages  which  society  has 
to  offer,  and  which  nature  allows  them  to  desire  and  acquire. 

Since  1789,  society,  as  a  matter  of  course,  has  continued  to  move  in 
the  same  grooves,  and,  thanks  to  work  and  competition,  all  that  which 
still  existed  by  way  of  social  inequalities  has  gradually  disappeared  ;  if, 
by  chance,  there  still  remain  in  our  laws  such  vestiges  of  former  inequal- 
ity, they  will  in  time,  and  with  the  help  of  all  enlightened  men,  disap- 
pear ;  for  it  is  now  a  truth  fully  recognized  that  the  good  of  humanity 
demands  that  at  least  all  legal  inequalities  should  be  done  away  with, 
and  that  all  men,  without  distinction,  should  be  allowed  to  acquire  any 
advantages  which  their  special  faculties,  and  the  conditions  wherein  they 
are  placed,  enable  them  to  acquire.  I  say,  then,  that  this  being  the  case, 
there  is  no  reason  wh)-,  in  the  present  state  of  society,  men  should  any 
longer  be  designated  by  classes.  They  are  men,  and  men  alone,  and  as 
such  they  sliould  be  allowed  to  enjoy  common  advantages,  to  live  by 
their  work — namely,  to  constitute  tliemselves  into  families,  to  cultivate 
their  intelligence,  to  worship  God  according  to  their  conscience — in  a 
word,  to  enjoy  all  the  rights  we  call  the  rights  of  a  man  and  citizen. 

But  when  in  a  society  all  legal  inequalities  have  been  suppressed,  does 
it  necessarily  follow  that  an  absolute  equality  will  be  the  final  result  ? 
No.  Society  can  only  do  away  with  inequalities  of  its  own  making ; 
inequalities  which,  from  causes  we  have  not  time  here  to  set  forth,  were 
added  to  the  already  existing  natural  inequalities.  For  there  are  natural 
inequalities  ;  inequalities  which  may  be  called  individual  ineijualities, 
there  being  no  two  persons  in  the  world  exactly  the  same.  From  this 
fact  alone — men  being  in  a  thousand  ways  different  from  each  other — 
it  necessarily  follows  that  each  man's  condition  is  different  from  that  of 
his  fellow-men.  Hence  an  infinite  multitude  of  inequalities  which  have 
always  existed  and  always  will  exist,  because  they  result  from  the 
nature  of  things  ;  and  such  inequalities  must  be  clearly  distinguished 
from  those  dependent  on  the  law. 


344  ELEMENTS    OF   MORALS. 

What  now  are  the  principal  causes  of  these  inequalities,  which  I  call 
individual  inequalities  ?  They  are  of  two  kinds  :  the  inherent  faculties 
of  the  individual,  and  the  circumstances  wherein  he  is  placed. 

The  faculties  of  the  individual  are  the  work  of  nature  :  they  spring 
from  liis  moral  and  physical  organization  ;  and,  as  I  have  said  above, 
there  being  no  two  men  exactly  alike,  either  physically  or  morally,  it 
naturally  follows  tliat  there  are  differences,  and  these  differences  bring 
with  them  inequalities.  Let  us,  for  instance,  take  the  most  important 
of  all  tliese  differences,  namely,  physical  strength,  health.  Man  is  a 
living  being,  an  organized  being,  and  his  organization  is  subject  to  the 
most  delicate,  most  numerous,  most  complicated  conditions.  Hence 
many  differences.  Some  are  born  strong,  robust,  able  to  brave  all  kinds 
of  temperatures,  all  sorts  of  trials— trials  of  work,  of  outside  events, 
sometimes  the  trials  of  their  own  excesses  even. 

Others,  on  the  contrary,  are  born  with  a  feeble  constitution  ;  they  are 
weak,  delicate,  they  cannot  bear  trials  the  same  as  the  ethers. 

This  is  a  first  difference,  and  this  difference,  you  well  know,  may  be 
subdivided  into  a  multitude  of  others  ;  for  there  are  no  two  individuals 
equally  healthy,  equally  strong.  What  will  be  the  natural  result? 
This,  for  example  :  that  where  strength  is  required  (and  every  one  needs 
more  or  less  physical  strength  to  accomplish  certain  heavy  works),  the 
strongest  will  have  the  advantage  over  the  others  ;  and,  after  a  certain 
time,  of  two  men  who  started  at  the  same  time,  under  the  same  condi- 
tions, with  equal  moral  advantages,  one,  owing  to  his  physical  strength, 
shall  have  accomplished  a  great  deal,  and  the  other  less  ;  one  shall  have 
earned  much,  the  other  little  :  their  career  is  unequal. 

But  it  is  not  always  the  greater  physical  strength  and  health  which 
determine  in  man  his  capacity  for  work  ;  and  it  is  a  notable  fact,  and  a 
matter  upon  which  it  is  well  to  insist,  namely,  that  all  differences  are 
compensated  for,  balance  themselves,  so  to  say  ;  that  such  a  one,  for 
example,  who,  in  some  respect  and  from  a  certain  point  of  view,  may  be 
inferior  to  another,  may  from  another  standpoint  be  superior  to  him  ; 
which,  again,  is  as  much  as  to  say  that  there  are  no  classes  in  society  ; 
for  if  the  one  who  in  one  respect  is  inferior  to  his  fellow-man,  is  in  another 
superior  to  liim,  they  are  equals. 

"  In  the  class  called  the  laboring  class,  for  example,  we  see  every  day 
that  it  is  not  always  the  strongest  and  the  healthiest  that  produce  the 
largest  amount  of  work  ;  and  love  of  work  is  a  notable  factor  in  this 
scale  of  physical  strength,  making  the  balance  pretty  even.  For  some 
delicate  men  are  industrious,  whilst  others  who  are  stronger  are  not ; 
some  have  a  natural  liking  for  their  work,  whilst  others  again  have 
not.  Hence  a  difference  in  the  character  of  their  work,  and,  conse- 
(juentlj,  in  the  remuneration  of  it. 


APPENDIX    TO    CHAPTER   YIII.  345 

A  third  difference  is  that  of  the  intelligence.  All  men  have  received 
from  nature  a  special  gift  which  distinguishes  them  from  the  animals, 
and  which  we  call  intelligence  ;  but  they  have  not  received  it  all  to  the 
same  degree.  Not  all  men  have  the  same  intellectual  faculties,  and 
every  one  knows  how  great  an  element  of  success  intelligence  is  in  all 
functions,  in  all  departments  of  human  activity,  even  in  those  requiring 
above  all  physical  strength  and  the  use  of  the  hands.  It  is  well  known 
that  even  the  latter  find  in  intelligence  their  best  auxiliary  ;  that  it 
procures  them  an  invaluable  advantage,  even  over  those  whose  physical 
strength,  facility,  ardor,  tenacity  in  work,  would  seem  to  forestall  all 
I'ivalry. 

There  is  finally  a  fourth  element  which  is  also  inherent  in  the  indi- 
vidual man,  and  which  distinguishes  one  man  from  the  other,  and  this 
is  morality.  We  all  know  that  morality,  independently  of  its  own 
merit,  its  incomparable,  intrinsic  merit,  a  merit  which  cannot  be  esti- 
mated by  its  fruits,  is  of  itself  alone  one  of  the  greatest  factors  in  bring- 
ing about  important  results  in  practical  life.  We  all  know  that  even 
setting  aside  the  intrinsic  worth  of  morality — honesty,  virtue — the  work 
resulting  fi'om  our  physical  efforts  is  greatly  enhanced  by  this  precious 
element.  We  all  know  that  economy,  sobriety,  a  spirit  of  peace  and 
concord,  devotion  to  the  family — in  short,  all  moral  elements — give  to 
him  who  exercises  them  a  vast  superiority  over  his  fellows  who  do  not, 
despite  his  intellectual  and  physical  disadvantages. 

When  I  say  that  morality  is  an  element  of  inequality,  I  ^nsh  to  be 
understood  rightly.  There  are,  it  is  true,  moral  inequalities  among 
men  ;  and  from  these  moral  inequalities  spring  others  ;  but  morality  is 
not  in  itself  a  principle  of  inequality,  for  what  precisely  constitutes 
morality,  is  that  all  men  can  e(iually  attain  to  it  ;  that  it  wholly  depends 
on  the  individual  man  to  attain  to  it  or  not.  So  that  if,  on  this  point, 
a  man  finds  himself  inferior  to  another,  he  can  blame  no  one  for  it  but 
himself. 

Here,  then,  is  a  point  where  the  law  is  of  no  avail  ;  where  it  is  evident 
that  man  is  the  master  of  his  actions,  and  gains  for  himself  what  mo- 
rality he  wishes  ;  if,  then,  there  results  from  this  a  certain  inequalitj' 
among  men,  this  inequality  is  to  be  attributed  to  the  free-will  of  the 
individual  man,  who  did  not  profit  by  the  admirable  gift  Providence 
has  endowed  him  mth — namely,  moral  liberty — and  by  means  of  whicli 
he  can  choose  between  the  right  and  the  wrong. 

You  see,  then,  that  there  are  many  causes  differentiating  men  from 
each  other,  and  in  such  a  manner  that  it  is  impossible  to  define  them 
strictly.  We  cannot  say  :  there  are  on  the  one  hand  the  strong,  and  on 
the  other  the  weak  ;  on  the  one  the  intelligent,  on  the  other  the  feeble- 
minded, because  all  these  elements  so  combine  as  to  compensate  for  one 


346  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

another.  Once  more,  he  who  is  least  favored  in  one  direction,  may  be 
better  favored  in  another  ;  he  who  has  an  inferior  share  of  intelligence 
and  physical  strength,  may  be  the  first  in  will-power.  We  can  thus 
always  fill  out  natural  inequalities,  and  correct  and  overcome  them  by 
an  effort  of  the  will. 

Still,  however  that  may  be,  and  despite  all  effort  of  individual  will- 
power and  "moral  energy,  there  unquestionably  result  from  these  indi- 
vidual ditferences  a  multitude  of  different  conditions  among  men.  Be- 
sides, and  independently  of  these  purely  inward  causes  due  to  both  the 
physical  and  moral  constitution  of  the  individiial  man,  there  are  j^et 
outward  causes  of  inequality.  These  are  the  circumstances,  the  condi- 
tions wherein  we  are  born  and  live. 

We  are  all  more  or  less  dependent  on  the  physical  and  social  condi- 
tions which  surround  us.  It  is  quite  certain  that  birth,  for  example,  is 
a  circumstance  wholly  independent  of  the  will  of  man.  Some  are  born 
in  the  most  favorable,  some  in  the  least  favorable  social  conditions — 
some  rich,  some  poor  ;  facts  which  depend  neither  on  their  constitution 
nor  on  their  will.  There  are,  moreover,  still  other  outward  circum- 
stances. One  may  be  born  in  a  rich,  a  civilized,  an  enlightened,  a  pro- 
gressive country,  or  in  a  poor,  barbarous,  benighted  country.  One 
may  live  in  a  place  where  there  is  every  means  of  education,  of 
making  a  living,  of  improving  one's  self,  where  there  may  be  a 
thousand  favorable  openings  for  a  man,  and  again,  on  the  contrary, 
in  a  place  far  away  from  all  civilization,  without  opportunities  for 
work,  without  enlightenment,  without  means  of  communication  with 
other  men.  All  such  circumstances  are  independent  of  the  will  of  the 
individual  man,  and  can  only  be  corrected  in  time  and  through  the 
progi-ess  of  civilization,  which  gradually  equalizes  all  countries. 

There  are  yet,  besides  all  this,  what  is  generally  called  the  happy  and 
unhappy  chances  of  life.  Everybody  knows  that  human  events  do  not 
always  run  as  one  would  wish  them,  that  things  turn  out  more  or  less 
fortunately,  as  circumstances,  and  not  men,  order  them.  One  may,  for 
instance,  get  sick,  when  he  has  most  need  of  health  ;  a  wife  loses  her 
husband,  the  support  of  her  family,  when  she  has  most  need  of  him  ; 
one  may  engage  in  an  enterprise  apparently  founded  on  the  best  condi- 
tions of  success  :  this  enterprise  fails  on  account  of  unexpected  events, 
and  without  its  being  any  one's  fault.  In  commerce,  for  instance,  we 
see  every  day  the  most  unfortunate  consequences  of  outward  circum- 
stances, against  which  one  is  utterly  helpless,  because,  in  commerce  espe- 
cially, there  is  a  large  share  to  be  left  to  chance,  to  the  unknown,  which 
no  one  can  calculate  beforehand.  Now,  all  such  unexpected  events,  as 
they  are  realized,  overthrow  all  our  plans,  and  are  cause  that  some  attain 
to  wealth,  and  others  fall  into  poverty.     Farmers  particularly  know  but 


APPENDIX   TO    CHAPTER   VHI.  347 

too  well  how  dependent  they  are  on  outward  circumstances.  Cold, 
heat,  rain,  are  for  them  elements  of  fortune  or  misery,  and  they  are 
elements  over  which  they  have  no  control  whatsoever. 

Now  these  elements,  working  blindly,  as  it  would  seem,  are  the  chief 
cause  of  the  great  diversity  of  human  conditions.  Some,  it  is  said,  are 
lucky  ;  others  are  not  ;  some  meet  with  favorable  circumstances,  others 
with  contrary  and  fatal  circumstances.  Everything  seems  to  co-operate 
toward  crushing  some,  whilst  everything  again  favors  the  success  of 
others.  These  causes  are  innumerable,  and  could  be  multiplied  ad  in- 
finituin ;  they  explain  the  infinite  varietj'  of  human  conditions,  how 
there  are  none  exactly  similar,  and  how  there  are  consequently  no  two 
men  exactly  alike. 

They  are  equals  as  men,  in  the  sense  that  they  have  the  same  rights 
to  justice,  to  truth  ;  the  same  rights  of  conscience  ;  but  they  are  not 
equals  as  to  their  circumstances,  which  circumstances,  as  we  have  seen, 
vary  in  every  respect.  But,  it  may  be  asked,  why  all  these  inequalities  ? 
Why  are  some  happy  and  others  unhappy  ?  Why  some  rich,  fortunate, 
powerful,  intelligent,  virtuous  even  ?  (for  it  would  almost  seem  that  up 
to  a  certain  point,  virtue  also  depends  on  social  position,  since  those  who 
are  born  in  a  more  elevated  condition  have  greater  facilities  to  exercise 
virtue) ;  why  are  others,  on  the  contrary,  unfortunate,  obliged  to  work  so 
hard  to  arrive  at  such  poor  results  ;  to  be  scarcely  able  to  make  a  living 
for  themselves  or  their  familj'  ?  Certainly  these  are  indeed  most  grave 
and  serious  questions.  But,  what  I  contend  for  is,  that  it  is  not  to  so- 
ciety we  should  put  these  questions,  but  to  Providence,  who  has  made  life 
what  it  is.  Society  can  do  but  one  thing,  namely,  not  to  add  to  natural 
inequalities,  social  ones.  It  can  also,  to  a  certain  degree,  lessen  the 
natural  inequalities  ;  but  it  is  not  wholly  responsible  for  man's  moral  and 
physical  constitution  ;  it  is  not  wholly  responsible  for  the  course  of  events 
in  the  world  ;  so  that  if  we  would  know  why  things  are  thus  fashioned, 
we  must  rise  higher  ;  we  must  not  make  our  fellow-men  or  society  in 
general  answerable  for  them.  I  only  add  that,  as  legal  inequalities  disap- 
pear, so  will  tiie  natural  inequalities  also  vanish,  and  this  is  the  essen- 
tial point.  Natural  inequalities  cannot  be  wholly  corrected,  for  the 
reasons  above  stated  ;  but  as  society,  in  doing  away  with  legal  in- 
equalities, strives  to  lessen  the  share  of  responsibility  it  has  heretofore 
had  in  these  inequalities,  the  natural  inequalities  must  necessarily  grow 
less,  and  for  the  simple  reason  that  avenues  being  opened  to  man  to  enjoy 
the  fruit  of  his  labor,  and  ac(|uire  the  rights  society  holds  now  out  to  him, 
he  will  be  able  to  fill  out  these  natural  inequalities.  The  inequality  of 
intelligence  was  largely  due  to  want  of  culture.  As  soon  as  men  shall  bo 
educated,  enliglitened,  shall  themselves  endeavor  to  learn,  tlie  dilferences 
in  human  intelligence  will  gradually  disappear  ;  for  it  has  been  observed 


348  ELEMENTS   OF   MORALS. 

that  as  civilization  progresses,  the  number  of  great  men  diminishes,  and 
what  was  formerly  called  genius,  is  lost  in  the  larger  development  of 
society.  This  may  be  only  an  illusion,  for  genius  never  changes  ;  only 
as  the  existing  ditferences  among  men  become  lessened,  the  inequalities 
which  separated  the  great  men  from  the  rest  are  less  obvious. 

Thus,  the  more  you  shall  put  into  the  hands  of  men,  and  if  possible 
of  all  men,  means  for  educating  themselves,  the  more  you  will  find 
these  differences  vanish  ;  the  more  will  they  grow  like  each  other,  the 
more  will  human  intelligence  become  equalized. 

On  the  other  hand,  as  social  and  legal  inequalities  disappear,  public 
prosperity,  public  wealth,  public  comforts,  will  increase  at  the  same 
rate.  As  the  physical  strength  of  men  develops,  so  will  the  means  of 
combating  infirmities,  diseases,  all  that  weakened,  enervated,  depraved 
the  populations,  develop  also.  As  the  moral  differences  diminish  (not 
indeed  in  the  sense  that  every  one  will  reach  the  same  degree  of  virtue— 
that  is  impossible),  the  rudeness,  the  brutality,  certain  odious  vices  due 
to  ignorance,  to  barbarous  manners,  to  the  insufficient  means  of  com- 
munication with  each  other,  will  gradually  disappear  ;  and  thus,  in 
respect  to  civilization  also,  will  men  grow  more  like  each  other. 

You  see,  then,  that  by  culture,  by  the  progress  of  civilization,  all  these 
inequalities  due  to  outward  circumstances,  may  be  combated.  Society 
at  the  present  time,  being  more  ingenious,  more  enlightened,  more 
clever  than  in  past  days,  has  at  its  command  a  multitude  of  means 
wherewith,  if  not  to  destroy,  at  least  to  reduce  the  ill  effects  of  outward 
chances.  That,  for  example,  which  we  call  life-insurance,  is  very 
effective  indeed  in  combating  misfortune.  By  means  of  a  small  sacrifice, 
every  man  may  in  some  respect  protect  himself  against  chances  whicli 
formerly  reduced  a  large  part  of  the  population  to  misery.  It  is  tlie  same 
with  other  similar  societies  of  mutual  assistance  and  benefit  ;  they  vvdl  in- 
crease in  proportion  to  general  progress,  and  will  largely  counteract  the  un- 
happy results  of  such  inequalities  as  may  be  combated  by  human  industry. 
I  go  still  further  ;  I  maintain  that  the  inequalities  above  noted  not 
only  should  not  be  imputed  to  society,  but  not  even  to  Providence. 
They  are  legitimate  and  useful  ;  they  are  the  necessary  stimulant  to 
work.  It  is  because  of  that  very  great  variety  of  conditions  that  men 
make  the  proper  efforts  to  better  them,  and  that  by  these  efforts,  by 
this  common  labor,  society  progresses. 

Why  does  every  one  work  ?  Is  it  not  that  each  sees  above  him  a 
position  he  covets,  and  which  he  seeks  to  secure  ?  It  is  not  the  first  of 
positions,  nor  the  highest,  for  man  does  not  think  of  those  too  far  above 
him,  nor  should  he  ;  but  the  next  best,  such  as  others  like  him 
occupy,  he  can  attain.  If  he  earns  a  little  money  only,  he  tries  to  earn 
more  ;   if  he  is  only  a  workman,  he  may  become  a  foreman  ;   if  only  a 


APPENDIX    TO    CHAPTER   VIII.  349 

foreman,  a  master ;  if  only  a  master,  a  capitalist.  He  who  is  but  a  third 
clerk  will  want  to  be  second  clerk  ;  he  who  is  second  will  want  to  be 
first  ;  and  thus  through  the  whole  series  of  degrees.  Now,  it  is  just 
the  possibility  of  securing  a  better  situation  than  the  one  we  are  in  that 
stimulates  us  to  work  and  make  the  necessary  efforts.  Suppose  (a 
thing,  of  course,  impossible)  that  all  men  could  be  assured  of  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  daily  bread  equally  distributed  among  them,  human  activity 
would  at  once  come  to  a  stop,  human  work  would  cease  ;  society  would 
consequently  become  impoverished,  and,  becoming  impoverished,  even 
the  small  portion  each  one  is  satisfied  with  could  no  longer  be  possible, 
and  they  would  have  to  fall  back  upon  work  again.  Work  requires  a 
stimulant,  and  it  is  the  ine(iuality  of  human  conditions  which  furnishes 
this  stimulant. 

Societies  are  like  individuals.  Every  society  has  always  before  its 
eyes  a  condition  better  than  the  one  it  is  in,  a  state  of  gi-eater  material 
prosperity,  of  greater  intellectual  development  ;  and  it  is  because  we 
long  to  reach  that  superior  state  that  society  strives  after  improvement. 
There  are,  indeed,  societies  that  are  indifferent  to  this  ;  that  do  not 
experience  such  a  want  ;  but  such  peoples  remain  stagnant  in  their  bar- 
barous ignorance  ;  they  never  advance.  It  is  the  civilized  nations  who 
are  not  satisfied  with  their  condition,  and  where  every  one  endeavors  to 
better  his  own.  "NVe  should,  therefore,  look  upon  the  inequalities  which 
favor  intiividual  development,  which  assist  the  progress  of  the  race, 
which  excite  every  man  to  make  an  effort  to  better  his  condition,  as 
truly  desirable. 

I  have  demonstrated  how  the  great  legal  inequalities  which,  before 
the  French  Revolution,  authorized  the  division  of  society  into  classes, 
have  now  disappeared,  and  tiiat  what  remains,  and  must  of  necessity 
remain,  are  the  natural  inequalities  resting,  on  the  one  hand,  on  indi- 
vidual faculties,  and  on  the  other,  on  the  diversity  and  the  ine(piality 
of  the  conditions  wherein  we  are  placed.  Let  us  now  see  whether  in 
these  conditions  there  is  something  requiring  society  to  be  divided  into 
parts :  —  some  people  above,  some  below,  some  in  the  middle,  and 
whether  each  of  these  parts  should  be  called  a  class.  I  look  in  vain 
for  anything  whereon  such  distinctions  could  be  based.  Let  us  take 
the  most  natural  fact  which  could  serve  as  a  basis  for  such  distinctions 
— namely,  fortune,  wealth. 

It  is  said :  there  are  the  ricli  and  the  poor.  But  what  more  vague 
than  such  terms  ?  Where  does  poverty  stop  ?  Undoubtedly,  tliei-e  are 
wretched  people  in  all  .societies.  There  is  no  society  wholly  free  of  poor 
unfortunates,  so  unfortunate  as  to  require  the  assistance  of  others.  It 
is  what  we  call  beggary,  and  it  exists  in  all  societies.  But  this  ij  not 
an  element  which  may  be  said  to  constitute  a  class.     It  is  not  anymore 


350  ELEMENTS   OF    MORALS. 

correct  to  say  the  class  of  beggars  than  the  class  of  invalids.  There  are 
invalids  in  all  societies,  and  we  are  all  subject  to  becoming  invalids,  but 
we  cannot  say  that  there  is  a  class  of  invaUds.  Those  who  are  ill  are 
to  be  pitied,  "but  they  do  not,  I  repeat,  constitute  a  class,  which  would 
allow  us  to  divide  society  into  two  parts  :  a  class  of  people  that  are  well 
and  people  that  are  sick.  The  same  with  beggary ;  it  is  an  anomaly, 
an  unfortunate  exception  to  the  rule,  and  very  sad  for  those  who  are  its 
victims,  but  it  does  not  constitute  a  class.  Yet  it  is  not  this  we  gener- 
ally understand  by  the  poor  and  the  rich  classes.  We  understand  by 
rich  those  who  have  a  certain  appearance  of  well-being  ;  and  by  poor 
those  who  work  more  or  less  with  their  hands.  Now,  there  is  nothing 
more  false  than  such  a  distinction,  for,  among  those  called  rich,  there 
are  many  that  are  poor,  and  wealth  and  poverty  are  not  generally  abso- 
lutely dilferent.  It  depends  on  the  relations  between  the  wants  and 
the  means  of  satisfying  them. 

How  many  among  physicians,  lawyers,  artists,  for  example— among 
men  who  belong  to  what  we  call  the  middle  class— are,  I  ask,  not  only 
poor,  but  wretched  ?  How  are  we  to  know  them  ?  What  is  it  marks 
in  society  the  rich  and  the  poor  ?  Here  we  have,  for  instance,  country 
people,  good  folks,  who  have  never  opened  a  book,  who  do  not  know  A 
from  B,  and  who  are  rich  ;  and  again  others  of  the  middle  class  who 
are  poor.  The  conditions  in  society  so  intertwine  that  it  is  impossible 
to  cut  it  in  two  and  say  :  these  are  the  rich  classes,  these  the  poor. 
There  is  an  infinite  variety  of  degrees,  each  ha^dng  some  sort  of  prop- 
erty, the  one  more,  the  other  less.  In  such  a  number  of  degrees  it  is 
impossible  to  distinguish  precisely  the  beginning  or  the  end.  We 
admit  these  individual  inequalities,  and  as  many  different  conditions  as 
there  are  individuals  ;  but  there  are  no  classes,  and  no  one  could  tell 
their  beginnings  and  ends.  How  could  you  determine  the  amount  of 
property  requisite  to  belong  to  either  of  these  categories — the  rich  or 
the  poor?  Shall  you  say  that  the  rich  man  is  he  who  has  any  capital, 
and  the  poor,  he  who  has  not  any  ?  There  are  many  people  with  capi- 
tal that  are  poor,  and  many  without  who  are  very  well  off.  These  are 
but  arbitrary  distinctions. 

Upon  what,  then,  shall  we  base  class  differences  ?  On  the  profes- 
sions ?  On  those  who  exercise  public  functions  and  those  who  do  not  ? 
But  this  would,  in  the  first  place,  be  a  very  unequal  division  ;  for  the 
number  of  public  functionaries  is  very  small  in  comparison  with  the 
immense  mass  of  people  who  have  no  public  profession.  And  again, 
wherein  is  the  public  functionary  superior  to  this  or  that  merchant, 
this  or  that  big  farmer,  this  or  that  great  builder  or  contractor  ?  It 
is  impossible  to' say  :  for  in  the  hierarchy  of  functionaries  there  is  also  a 
top,  a  middle,  a  bottom,  with  an  infinite  variety  of  degi-ees  in  each. 


APPENDIX   TO    CHAPTER   VIII.  351 

Take  the  nobility.  But  who  in  these  days  troubles  himself  about  aris- 
tocratic names  ?  They  are,  unquestionably,  valuable  souvenirs  for  those 
who  can  boast  of  them — of  great  historical  names,  for  instance  ;  names 
which  have  jilayed  a  part  in  history ;  they  are  grand  recollections  to 
cherish  and  respect,  but  they  give  him  who  possesses  them  but  very 
feeble  advantages.  It  is  not  very  long  since  there  might  have  been 
found  some  legitimate  ground  for  the  class  distinctions  we  are  examin- 
ing, namely,  in  political  rights,  at  a  time  when  some  few  enjoyed  polit- 
ical rights  and  a  great  many  had  none  ;  but  this  time  has  gone  by, 
this  inequality  is  also  wiped  out  ;  there  are  no  more  political  classes 
than  there  are  social  classes. 

Shall  we  take  material  work — work  of  hand,  as  a  class  distinction 
among  men  ?  AVe  hear  often  the  term  lahoriiuj  classes — men,  namely,  who 
live  by  work  of  hand  ;  but  are  not  those  who  work  -with  their  brains, 
workers  also  ?  There  are  a  thousand  kinds  of  Avork,  and  it  is  not 
absolutely  necessary  one  should  work  with  his  hands  to  be  a  worker. 
Besides,  there  are  many  people  working  with  their  hands,  who  do  not 
belong  to  what  is  usually  understood  by  the  laboring  class  :  the  painters, 
sculptors,  chemists,  surgeons ;  all  these  people  work  with  their 
hands.  You  see,  then,  that,  look  at  it  as  you  will,  it  will  be  very 
difficult  to  find  distinctive  signs  whereby  society  could  be  divided  into 
classes. 

There  are  groups  of  workers  ;  groups  formed  by  the  variety  of  work 
which  has  to  be  done.  Everybody  cannot  do  the  same  thing  in  society. 
Political  economy  teaches  a  very  true  and  necessary  law,  called  division 
of  labor.  In  order  that  a  certain  piece  of  work  be  well  done,  its  differ- 
ent parts  must  be  distributed  among  those  who  are  capable  of  executing 
them  ;  and  the  more  each  one  will  exclusively  attend  to  tlie  portiou 
allotted  to  him,  the  better  will  the  work  be  done. 

It  is  the  same  with  society.  Society  is  a  great  work-shop,  a  vast 
factory,  where  there  are  a  great  many  different  kinds  of  work  to  be  done. 
Each  must  do  his  share.  Hence  various  groups  of  workers.  Some 
cultivate  the  land,  because  men  must  be  fed  ;  some  engage  in  industrial 
pursuits,  for  men  must  be  clothed,  must  be  housed  against  the  inclem- 
encies of  the  weather  ;  then  there  is  justice  to  be  rendered  ;  there  are 
some  needed  to  protect  the  laborers  ;  men  must  also  be  educated  and 
need  educators.  There  are  roads  to  be  made,  railroads  to  be  laid,  laws 
to  be  enforced,  and  all  this  gives  rise  to  a  multitude  of  functions,  a  large 
number  of  groups  of  workers,  each  working  in  the  line  which  has  been 
determined,  more  or  less,  by  birth,  circumstances,  or  natural  ability. 
Shall  we  still  say  that  each  of  these  groups  forms  a  class  ?  Shall  it  be 
the  military  class,  because  it  is  composed  of  soldiers  ;  the  class  of  ec- 
clesiastics,  because   composed  of  priests  ;   the  teaching  class,  because 


352  ELEMENTS    OF   MOKALS. 

composed  of  teachers  ?     In  no  wise.     Then  should  we  neither  speak  ol 
the  laboring  classes — of  the  middle  classes. 

There  is,  I  repeat,  but  one  society,  and  that  society  composed  of  an 
infinite  number  of  individuals  ;  all  differing  from  each  other  by  reason 
of  their  various  natural  endowments  and  the  outward  conditions  in 
which  they  are  placed.  They  are  subdivided  into  groups  which  more  or 
less  blend  with  each  other,  are  more  or  less  dependent  on  each  other. 

There  is,  however,  a  sign  whereby  men  may  be  distinguished  from 
each  other,  and  that  is  education  :  difference  in  instruction  and  culture  ; 
and  this  is  in  these  days  the  only  kind  of  difference  that  can  still  exist 
among  them. 

How  is  this  to  be  remedied  ?  In  two  ways  :  in  observing  the  duties 
of  society  and  the  duties  of  individirals.  Society  at  this  present  moment 
is  doing  all  in  its  power  to  bring  education  within  the  reach  of  all,  and 
according  to  the  particular  need  of  each.  Of  course  all  are  not  obliged 
to  learn  the  same  things.  Even  among  the  most  enlightened,  there  arc 
some  who,  relatively  to  others,  are  quite  ignorant.  So  that  there  are 
degrees  here  also.  But  still  there  is  a  certain  common  ground  of 
customary,  useful,  necessary  knowledge,  which  brings  all  together  : — 
the  education  common  to  all,  and  which  is  as  a  bond  between  them. 
Society  is  doing  its  best  in  extending  this  education,  propagating  it, 
developing  it ;  and  men  should  do  their  best  toward  it.  It  depends, 
therefore,  on  the  individual  man  to  do  away  with  this  last  inequality. 
It  behooves  us,  then,  to  disseminate  education  and  instruction,  as  far  as 
it  lies  in  our  power  ;  and  it  behooves  those  who  have  not  yet  enjoyed  it 
to  make  every  effort  to  improve  themselves. 

Finally,  connected  with  education,  there  is  a  feature  which  also  es- 
tablishes a  certain  difference  between  men  :  good  manners  ;  good  habits  ; 
good  morals  ;  all  of  which  are  distinguishing,  differentiating,  traits.  On 
whom  is  it  incumbent  to  do  away  with  such  inequalities  ?  On  us  all. 
Each  of  us,  in  his  own  individual  sphei'e  of  life,  must  break  down  the 
barrier  that  separates  him  from  the  one  above  him  ;  he  must  rise  up  to 
him,  not  so  much  through  morality,  for  morality  is  the  same  below 
as  above,  but  through  his  manners,  his  habits,  his  dignity,  sobriety, 
politeness,  he  must  win  his  esteem. 

This  is  accomplished  rather  through  education  than  instruction,  for 
it  is  education  that  makes  men  good-natured,  so  that  it  will  be  through 
education  that  the  last  inequality  between  men  will  be  effaced. 

I  say,  then,  that  we  should  as  much  as  possible  work  toward  this  end, 
and  above  all  avoid  using  expressions  which  tend  to  separate  men  from 
each  other.  These  expressions  belong  to  a  past  age  ;  they  were  per- 
petuated by  usage,  and  still  uphold  certain  imaginary  rights,  and  modes 
cf  thinking — certain  prejudices  and  sentiments  which  divide  society  fntc 


APPENDIX    TO    CHAPTER    YIII.  353 

two  parts,  and  cause  it  to  believe  that  it  is  so  divided  from  necessity. 
In  indulging  in  such  prejudices,  what  in  fact  is  but  an  imaginary  divi- 
sion becomes  a  real  one. 

It  is,  therefore,  this  imaginary  division  of  classes  which  must  be 
done  away  with  ;  for  it  is  from  the  imagination  that  all  these  feelings  of 
distrust,  and  jealousy,  and  ill-will  generally  spring  ;  and  they  should  be 
combated  resolutely,  for  they  carry  with  them  very  lamentable  conse- 
quences. The  remedy  is  where  the  evil  is.  These  old  prejudices 
residing  in  the  imagination,  it  is  the  imagination  wc  should  correct. 
■\Ve  must  accustom  ourselves  to  think  differently  ;  we  must  look  upon 
ourselves  not  as  belonging  to  a  particular  class,  but  to  one  and  the  same 
society,  a  society  of  men,  men  all  equals  and  in  different  social  condi- 
tions, all  entitled  to  the  same  rights. 

It  is,  therefore,  in  recij^rocal  good  feeling,  in  the  heart  of  men  rather 
than  in  any  legal  reform,  that  the  true  safety  of  society  resides.  We 
must  give  up  those  old  notions  which  cause  some  to  imagine  that  they 
are  oppres.sed,  or  threatened,  or  prevented  to  rise  in  the  social  scale,  and 
others,  that  they  run  the  danger  of  being  dispossessed  of  their  privileges. 
There  is  in  such  antagonism  far  greater  danger  than  in  the  actual  evils 
both  sides  complain  of. 

To  do  away  with  it  only  requires  reciprocal  good-will,  kindness, 
readiness  to  understand  each  other.  The  reform  which  has  taken  place 
in  our  laws,  must  take  place  in  our  minds  also.  Class  feeling  must  be 
suppressed,  and  there  will  then  appear  a  truly  human  society,  all  being 
united  b}'  brotherly  love. 


'^9  !^  r.  '-< 


UC  SOUTHERrj  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


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i^JF  CALIFOfiN'ii 

ANGELES,  CALiF, 


